


Fortius quo Fidelius

by Idonquixote



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Five And One, Friendship, Gen, Occasional hurt/comfort, Some Humor, Typical Kuro violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2014113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/pseuds/Idonquixote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sebastian Michaelis saved the Phantomhive staff and the one time they saved their demon butler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Footman

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written for Kuroshitsuji. I admit to falling out of the fandom for a bit, but the new anime is pulling me back in (even though I already know how it'll end). Had the urge to write this- it'd be my first "five and one" fic for this fandom. And the first time writing from the "povs" of the servants. I hope I do them justice! Also the first time I'm putting a fic here instead of leaving it on ff.net.

**V. The Footman**

There used to be a time when Snake forgot what freedom was. The feeling of open air on his fingers, the luxury of walking wherever he pleased, the privilege of being accepted- all these things were once foreign to him, when his life consisted of slivers behind the bars of a cage. That had all changed when Noah's Ark came. These people had freed him, accepted him, loved him... they were family, these people he considered brothers and sisters.

Before them, he had nothing but snakes, reptiles that had treated him better than any human ever had. And after them, these snakes were all he had once more.

There used to be a time when Snake  _loathed_  the name Phantomhive, the one who had taken his family away. He had despised everyone in that manor and he had wanted nothing more than to bathe them in poison and blood. Until Ciel Phantomhive-  _Smile_ \- made a promise that the young man clung to. He would see his family again. And in the end, Earl Phantomhive was still  _Smile_  and Sebastian Michaelis was still  _Black_.

Snake had somehow been accepted again. It was the Phantomhive manor that took him in and its staff that claimed him as one of their own. In time, his snakes, his scales, his repulsive being, meant nothing to them... it reminded him of family. Almost.

In the time that followed as a footman, he held onto his reservations of the staff.  _They are being polite_ , Wordsworth once said.  _There's something wrong with this bunch_ , Emily told him.  _There was only one set of humans you could trust and that set is gone_ , Wilde had said. Snake quelled their misgivings, but the doubt crept back in when he slept.

Between the snores of the cook and the occasional incoherent mumbles of the dozing gardener, Snake would lie awake in his bunk, his slithering companions whispering into his ears. There were too many questions he could not answer.

One thing he was certain of, however, was the staff's loyalty to the young earl. There was an unquestionable devotion to the boy that Snake found himself developing as well. Of course, the closest to Smile was and always would be Black.

Even now, he could not bring himself to address them by anything else- he feared that if he did, he would forget about Noah's Ark.

" _Been quite a long time, 'asn't it, Snake man?_ "

The gruff, malicious voice brought him back the present. The footman struggled to blink- whatever thoughts were swirling in his brain had been a result of a semi-conscious state. _They knocked you out, they tried to kill us,_  Bronte whispered. He could hear her, but she was not on his person.

He couldn't see in the dark. It was an alley- yes, an alley, narrow, tight, and dirty. It smelled as foul as that cage from so long ago. The sky was dark above them and the air was damp. Snake stifled a groan. His head throbbed, no doubt from what they had struck him with.  _You're bleeding_ , Oscar said from his spot on the ground.

The snakes were pinned by a trunk, their bodies looped together in a painful coil.

A greasy hand grabbed him by the strands of silvery hair. It yanked him forward. Snake bared his teeth as a light was shone against his bruised face.

"Just as 'ideous as ye were back then," a second voice said.

Snake recognized them now. Lyells and Pullman- those were the only names he knew them by. They had once been his jailers. Lyells was the first voice, a bony man with thick brows. And Pullman, the handsome barker with a scar beneath his right eye. Try as he might, Snake had never been able to forget their faces or the beatings and insults. He could never forget that cage.

The two laughed as he struggled to recall what happened. They were somewhere in the East End, what street he didn't know. Smile and Black had ventured out on a secretive errand and Snake had followed in the vain hope that it was to find his lost companions. The deeper into the city they got, the harder it had been to keep up. He remembered losing sight altogether by the time the sun fell.

He had been in the middle of quelling an argument between Wilde and Dan when a nauseating pain slammed into the back of his head. It came down twice. A wooden plank fell at his feet, no doubt the weapon of attack. The last thing he saw was a gloved hand gathering his snakes before his vision swam away. When he came to, his hands were bound behind his back and his feet tied together. It gave him a sense of ironic deja vu.

"Wot? Can't speak for yourself?" Lyells said.

"You don't own me, says Oscar," Snake retorted, his voice a near growl.

"Oh, we do- over that lot o' swindlers- you were the star attraction, snake man."

Snake heard Emily's hiss of anger when Pullman struck him across the face. He spat blood. The other man pulled him by the collar. "They stole you from us! Waltzed right up t' the cage and took you. Any idea how much money we lost over the years? Hadda scrap and scratch ta eat?"

"They stole nothing," Snake said, then louder, "because you do not own me, says-"

"Stop that!" It was Lyells this time, with a fist to his jaw. "Count us lucky that we saw you t'night. Not getting away this time."

Pullman grinned beside him, years of pent-up rage in his eyes. "No swindlers to protect you this time, eh?"

"They're gone, says Dan," Snake found himself snapping in spite of the instinct not to, "they're  _gone_! We work for someone else now!"

Lyells was upon him, kicking and punching, each blow meant for pain. Snake doubled over, his snakes hissing in protest. How dare they harm him? How dare they treat the reptiles as such? He struggled to wriggle free- he'd rather die than go back to that cage, he'd rather kill these men here and now. He knew what freedom was now and he was not going to lose it. But it was to no avail. The cords were too tight and the pain in his head too great.

When Lyells finally relented, Snake felt blood leak from his nose. He settled for glaring while his captors dragged him by the legs. They planned to abduct him,  _had_  abducted him in fact.

And in that moment, he wondered if the staff would come looking. Would Smile? The Phantomhive servants would do anything for Smile, but would they do the same for each other? And if they did, would they do the same for Snake? Would they bother with this strange footman, this amateur servant?

He had disobeyed the master's order in the first place. It had been his choice to sneak off. What if Black saw this as a sign of his running away? What if he decided that Snake deserved to meet whatever fate found him? He didn't know Black well. He knew two things, not counting the near superhuman power the other man had- one: Black would do anything for Smile and two: Black had no tolerance for the staff's mishaps.

Snake had not only betrayed Smile, but also failed in his duty as a servant. No one would come for him.

" _Treating a Phantomhive servant in such a manner; such poor form_."

Snake instantly whipped his head up at the voice. He knew that voice, knew its tone, knew its speech. The Phantomhive butler was perched on the rooftop of the nearest building, the moonlight shining over his polite smile.

Black jumped and landed on both feet, stunning Snake's captors. He took one step towards them and gestured at the rope. "If you will, please untie our footman."

The two men gaped at him before regaining their wits. "Like hell!" Pullman shouted, picking up the plank they had used on Snake.

"If ye want this freak back, you'd better fight for it," Lyells growled.

Black's smile fell. He quirked an eyebrow in annoyance. "I do hope the 'freak' you're referring to is not that young man. He is an esteemed member of the staff and my young master will not pleased to learn of the abuse he suffered at your hands."

Was Black... defending him? Snake said nothing, watching in surprise when the butler took another step forward. He heard the wild hissing of his companions when Pullman lunged. Black easily side-stepped the attack, catching the thrust plank with two fingers and tearing it out of Pullman's hands. While the other man struggled to regain balance, Black flicked him once in the ear and delivered a cringe-worthy blow to the man's abdomen.

Pullman crumpled with a gasp.

"I believe there is a phrase that calls for you to treat others the way you yourself would like to be treated. Since you chose to treat our footman so brutally, I'm assuming you would like to be beaten yourself."

A grin flashed across Black's face when he kicked Pullman in the thigh, the latter shouting in pain at the crunch that followed.

"Bloody bastard!" Lyells shouted, coming to his associate's rescue at last.

The butler turned towards the new assailant in annoyance. He dodged the fist that flew at his face. Lyells swung to no avail. From his spot, Snake caught a gleam of silver in the dark when Lyells moved to strike once more. Black caught one hand in his own, but Lyells' other fist charged forward, blade in hand.

 _It was in his belt_ , Emily said,  _of course_.

"He has a knife!" Snake cried, "Black, look out, says Wordsworth!"

The blade came back slick with red. Black put a hand to his own side and to Snake's horror, the gloved palm was quickly stained with blood. But none of that reflected on the butler's stoic face. Black sighed.

"And now you pull a knife on the Phantomhive butler? It's no wonder you live on the East End."

"You stay back or I stab-"

In an instant, Black was towering over Lyells, his hands on the man's shoulder. "Stab me again? You must be mistaken."

He lifted Lyells and ignoring the man's protests, threw him at the wall. A shower of bricks slid down and the bloodied knife clattered in the alleyway. Black dusted his hands before turning his attention towards Snake.

"Are you all right, Snake?"

Snake didn't answer the question. "How did you find me, says Wilde?" he asked instead.

Black knelt and fidgeted at the bonds. Within seconds, Snake could move his limbs. "Well, I noticed a familiar presence following us on today's errand- you see, the young master's cane is too tall for him and we wouldn't want anyone to know that secret; getting it exchanged in secret was preferable. Of course, you seemed to lose interest in us soon enough. I assumed you would return to the manor."

Black offered him a rare soft smile. "Until I heard the aggressive screams of your pets. And here I find you with these brutes. A Phantomhive footman deserves better company, if I may say so myself."

The butler offered his hands and Snake took them. With the assistance, he was able to stand up on shaky legs.

"It looks like you'll be needing medical assistance. Nothing to worry about," Black said before turning toward the pinned snakes.

He walked toward them and lifted the trunk pinning the snakes. Black stooped and untied the coil. The snakes slithered over him in gratitude before returning to their owner. Their words of relief overwhelmed Snake.

The relief was quickly replaced with worry when he glimpsed the bloodied blade. Snake grabbed the butler's arm, a blatant invasion of personal space he had never attempted with the man before.

"What about you, Black? You're hurt, says Emily!"

Black only gave him a small chuckle. "Now, now. What kind of butler would I be if I could not even handle this little wound?"

"Black, it's not funny, you could have died, says Wordsworth!"  _You could have died for me_.

"At the moment, I'm quite incapable of dying. You should be more worried about your own wounds. The sooner we get back to the manor, the better."

The manor. For a moment, it sounded like home.

Snake nodded dumbly. As they prepared to leave that alley for good, Pullman groaned. "Th- the hell are you?" he moaned.

"I'm simply one hell of a butler," was Black's smooth retort. Then an idea seemed to dawn on the man. "Seeing as the snakes are free, perhaps they can help us deal with the situation?"

Snake did not miss the mischievous gleam in the butler's eyes. "Of course, says Bronte," he said, with a little too much satisfaction.

The screams of Pullman and Lyells echoed into the night. They would never plague his nightmares again.

There used to be a time when Snake did not trust Sebastian Michaelis- Black. He admitted to somewhat fearing the man, resenting him, being at a loss as to how to understand him. Now there were no more doubts. He trusted the Phantomhive butler the way he would come to trust the rest of the staff, the way he used to trust his friends. The staff would always be loyal to Smile. As would the footman. Now Snake realized that loyalty extended to Black.


	2. The Predecessor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented! Here's the next servant in the spotlight: Tanaka. Given what little we know of him, I really hope he was somewhat in character. This chapter was kind of surreal for me because it was from his view. I tried to make his views on whatever's going on between Sebastian and Ciel as ambiguous as possible. And since Snake's chapter took place in the recent Kuro timeline, Tanaka's takes place in the past- specifically, when Ciel is still ten.

**IV. The Predecessor**

Tanaka was conflicted over the new servant. The man named Sebastian Michaelis had an odd air about him, something that the older butler instantly distrusted. Tanaka had his suspicions, but given all that had transpired, it would do no one any good to bring it up... at least as of yet. But on the other hand, Michaelis had been the one who brought Ciel Phantomhive back in one piece and on some level, the man reminded Tanaka of himself.

Michaelis was flamboyantly diligent, tall and proud in spite of a servant's trademark humility, a walking mystery of the darkest sort, and yet strangely incompetent at certain aspects, as if he had such little contact with human life the simplest of things evaded him. Tanaka had once been as grand and strange as Michaelis in his younger days- he remembered them well. There were customs he did not completely grasp, a past he kept guarded, a burning desire to please his English masters, and an even greater need to outdo every Westerner who frowned on his heritage.

Yes, Tanaka was grateful for Sebastian Michaelis and all he had done. The Phantomhive heir trusted him enough, but there was a darker bent on the young master's demeanor, something that went hand-in-hand with the new butler's appearance. And by all accounts, Michaelis was a hero. He had every right to demand an award for returning Ciel Phantomhive and saunter off to spend his riches.

Yet here he was instead, taking his place as the head butler. Michaelis should have known what kind of things this job would entail. Tanaka could think of no logical explanation other than an obligatory loyalty to the young Phantomhive. Next to that, Tanaka knew nothing of the man. He had lived long enough to know that it was not his place to ask.

So it was with a wayward suspicion that he returned to the manor. As long as he could be of some use, Tanaka would continue to serve- the fact that his position had been succeeded mattered not. The young master wanted him there and that was all the convincing he needed.

And it was to his surprise that his services were barely needed, if needed at all. Ciel now had a total of two servants in his  _strangely_  restored manor, an injured elder and a black clad man who somehow managed to take care of the entire mansion on his own.

"Mr. Michaelis, surely there's something I can do," the old man found himself saying on the fourth day back. Michaelis was busy polishing the manor's many dining items.

The new butler only inclined a head in Tanaka's direction. He delivered a small laugh, one that seemed far too warm for an appearance so cold. "The young master wishes for you to rest a bit longer, Mr. Tanaka. We would not want to aggravate your back. And please, call me Sebastian."

"I'm afraid such formalities are a habit," Tanaka sighed, "then what should I do in the meantime? I don't want to burden you with every little task."

"In that case, please wait for me in the kitchen. I shall meet you soon enough."

Tanaka excused himself with more pleasantries, ending in his habitual laugh (ho ho ho) before slowly making his way out. He should have known better than to trust Michaelis. Because when the butler arrived, it was with a tray in hand. Tanaka watched, stupefied, as Michaelis removed the cylindrical cup from his hand and placed it in the older man's hands. Michaelis' next move was to pick up the clay teapot and pour fresh green tea into it.

"I heard you were quite fond of this," the butler said.

"It has a calming effect," Tanaka replied, "Mr. Michaelis- your job is to serve the young master. The two of us are equals..."

"Where I come from, Mr. Tanaka, rank and age are very important. You are my predecessor and should be treated with such respect."

And with that, Michaelis returned to tending the manor, leaving the clay pot by Tanaka's foot. It was a miracle the pot hadn't burned with the rest of the manor. Perhaps it was a replica. He sipped the tea, pondering Michaelis' words-  _where you come from_. It was a good sign, if not a vague sign; wherever Michaelis had hailed from, he was conditioned not to betray his superiors. The young master would be safe.

Tanaka loitered around the manor for the rest of the day, lazily tending the gardens and mixing tea. Michaelis was a fast worker, from what he could observe, and the young master had spent the afternoon locked in his room. The old man wondered if this would be life at the manor from here on out. The sun soon turned red before it faded altogether and night fell. He was in the middle of massaging the scar on his aching back when Michaelis came knocking.

"Come in," Tanaka invited, taking his hands off his back and replacing his jacket.

_My, my, you almost look human, Michaelis_. The butler, for the first time since Tanaka had seen him, looked flustered. Michaelis had his head hung rather low and a sheepish twitch plagued his mouth.

"Mr. Tanaka, I need your help."

_So now you do, ho ho ho_. "What is it?"

"The young master has a fever. He's had it since the afternoon and it hasn't gone down." To prove his point, Michaelis flipped open his watch, the same one that Tanaka had bestowed upon him those few weeks ago.

But those words were all Tanaka needed to hear. He stood up, adjusted his monocle, and walked right past Michaelis. There was a time for pleasantries, but it was not now, not when the young master needed tending. Michaelis walked in stride with him, seeming oddly subservient. When they arrived at the boy's room, Tanaka gestured for the butler to open the door. He did.

Ciel was pale, a tiny shivering blip in the large bed. A thin layer of gauze surrounded the boy's healing eye and his chest was rising in steady, shallow rhythm. Tanaka approached him, removing a glove and placing his hand on the young master's forehead. It was warm and not healthily so.

"Young master," he said softly, "can you hear me?"

" _S- Sebastian_?" the boy mumbled weakly.

"I'm here, young master," Michaelis said, looming over Tanaka's shoulder, "Mr. Tanaka is here as well."

"He has chills," Tanaka said.

"What-"

Before Michaelis could finish the question, Tanaka had removed the covers and proceeded to rub at the boy's arms. His fingers glided past the boy's neck and over his body, pressing at any nerve points he saw fit. To the butler's astonishment, the shivering lessened.

"I've tampered with his body a bit. Don't worry, Mr. Michaelis, it's not the first time I've done this."

Michaelis continued staring in awe. He stroked his chin. "The human body... I never knew."

"Now, the effects are only temporary. We need to get him in a lighter cover- and open the window, Mr. Michaelis. At this rate, he should cool in an hour's time. We're lucky, you know. This is only a small fever, likely from exhaustion and malnutrition."

"It makes sense. Now I must admit to being rather surprised at how long he avoided illness."

Once more, Michaelis showed confusion over what Tanaka deemed obvious details. But again, it was not his place to ask. Whatever suspicions he had, he would have to deal with them on his own. What he took from this was that Michaelis was willing to humble himself for the young master's sake. Tanaka had detected genuine concern in the middle of the butler's frustration.

But watching Michaelis nonchalantly change the covers and open the window, Tanaka also noticed an awkward calm, as if Michaelis was indifferent toward the boy now that he was out of danger. But Michaelis had still set Ciel in bed as gently as one could. It was with professional diligence, not affection.

Then it hit Tanaka at last. Michaelis seemed to lack a "heart" when it came to his job. The affection did not run deep enough. He left the young master's room soon after, this detail troubling him.

Could he really entrust a man who did not love the young master with this job? If there was no affection, how long would it be before Michaelis tired of obligation? Perhaps he should confront the butler about it later.

Tanaka prepared to descend the stairs, then. A pang chose that moment to shoot through his back. It was a light irritation that soon turned into breath-taking pain. It was as if the muscle there chose to close in on itself.

He missed the second step.

His body frozen, Tanaka failed to grab onto the rail. He shut his eyes, knowing what to expect. There would be pain and perhaps blood, then nothing at all. It never happened.

Instead, a strong weight latched onto his chest and Tanaka found himself pulled back into an embrace from the back. The figure behind him braced them both for impact and Tanaka felt them move backwards before a distinct thud hit the wall.

He opened his eyes, finding himself leaning against Michaelis, the latter's arms wrapped around him. The descending stairs were a good few feet away. It didn't take long to figure out what had happened. He had been in the middle of a fatal fall when the butler caught him from behind, pulling them both back with such speed that they collided with the back wall. It was a remarkable feat.

Tanaka slid to his knees, unable to keep the pain in his back at bay. Michaelis still kept a steady grip on the old man's shoulders.

"My word," he muttered, "that was going to be a tumble."

"Indeed," chuckled the other man.

Tanaka craned his neck to look at Michaelis. The butler was pressed against the wall, a relieved smile on his face, and a stream of red seeping into his collar. Tanaka frowned, squinting at the shadow behind Michaelis. It was no shadow- it was a splatter of blood that had erupted from the man's head when his body slammed into the wall.

"Let's return to your quarters. Allow me to tend your back," Michaelis made to say, but Tanaka waved his words off.

The former butler rubbed at his own back, bruising skin and poking at nerves until the pain had dulled to a tolerable degree. He rose without Michaelis' help. Tanaka motioned for the younger man to move forward the latter obeyed. The blood splatter was even worse once his shadow left.

Michaelis turned from Tanaka to the offending stain and back again. "I apologize for the mess. I can clean-"

"Why?" Tanaka interrupted. He had a feeling Michaelis wouldn't try to weasel out of the question.

"You are a valuable member of our staff."

It was a wonder that Michaelis was still standing with that injury. But then again, Tanaka had been judging him by average standards. His gaze remained on the butler, refusing to leave. Michaelis almost looked away when he uttered the next words.

"The young master would be upset."

There were a number of meanings here. It would shame Michaelis greatly if he allowed Tanaka to die on his watch and that would no doubt anger the young master. Tanaka had no doubt the young master would literally be upset if yet another death occurred at the household. There were many things Tanaka alone could manage in regards to the young master- his death would greatly inconvenience everyone. But judging from the hint of an embarrassed blush on the man's face, there was one more reason: for a split second, he had been concerned about the young master's well-being.

For a split second, there had been affection there. To the point where Michaelis was willing to crack his own head open in order to ensure the safety of an elder who might as well have been dead. That was all Tanaka needed to know.

"Thank you."

Tanaka placed a hand on the other man's shoulder before saying, " _Sebastian_."

Michaelis-  _Sebastian_ \- stared at him in surprise, caught off-guard. Tanaka's hand left his shoulder and pressed the back of his head. It was sticky with blood, but Sebastian's face showed no signs of distress. Tanaka detached himself from the butler's person and bowed.

"Please, Mr. Tanaka-"

"Pardon me for interrupting you again, Sebastian, but Tanaka is just fine. These formalities need to stop somewhere."

Part of Tanaka wanted to guide the butler back to his own room and bind the wound lest Sebastian collapse soon after. But a greater part of him suspected that the injury would have little, if any effect at all on someone like Sebastian Michaelis.

So he settled instead for saying, "Join me for tea, Sebastian? We return to the young master in half an hour's time."

The question seemed to catch Sebastian off guard once more. "It would be an honor, M-  _Tanaka_."

"Ho ho ho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope that was enjoyable and that you liked my take on Tanaka. Feel free to review and let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Next time: The Gardener (Finnian) and a possible reaper cameo


	3. The Gardener

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for the support! This chapter gives Finny the spotlight and gives a certain reaper a cameo. No particular time frame, but it takes place before the Circus arc and after the Jack the Ripper arc.

**III. The Gardener**

_Mr. Sebastian hates me._  Some days Sebastian tolerated him and some days it seemed as if Sebastian hated him. This was one of those days. The gardener sniffed. Finnian took one last glance at the garden and its wilted plants before he turned to rub a wet eye. He really did want it to turn out right this time- he ended up plucking too many weeds, adding too much water, ruining too many roses when he tried to sniff them. In the end, that part of the garden looked like a moving train had plowed through it.

"I'm sorry-" he tried to explain, but Sebastian held up a hand to cut him off.

"Leave it," the butler said, a visible twitch below his left eye, "just return to the greenhouse."

"I can fix it!"

"I said  _leave_."

Sebastian shot him a glare before moving on to tend the garden himself. With nothing left to do, Finnian reluctantly followed the butler's orders. He had only been trying to brighten up the garden. He had wanted to surprise the young master. Fate seemed to have other plans because Finnian didn't seem capable of anything that didn't end in destruction. Even Bard was a better cook.

He hummed to himself in a failed effort to boost his spirits. When he arrived at the greenhouse, there was even less to do. He didn't dare touch the plants lest he ruin anything else today. He doubted Sebastian would be pleased if that happened. The butler had threatened to fire the lot of them a good few times over the past year.

Finnian believed that if the day should come, he'd be the first to go. He was lesser than Bard and Mey-Rin. He couldn't even read before he came! He had only known how to fight and run and kill. He had no idea how to care for himself, let alone someone else. He wanted to take care of the young master and the master's gardens- he really did. But he was simply too much of a nuisance for success.

If he was removed from the manor, Finnian wouldn't know where to go. He took comfort in the fact that he'd still be free to live under the sky. Maybe he could make a home in the forest and never come out...

The sound of a chirping bird caught his attention. Eager, Finnian approached the source of the noise. He stepped out of the greenhouse door and beamed upon seeing the little thing.

"What are you doing here, little friend?" he asked, holding out a hand for the bird.

It was about to jump on his finger when a striped blur knocked into it. Finnian yelped, watching in surprise as the thing pinned the bird with its paws. The kitten was staring viciously at its prey, fangs showing. _Not on my watch!_

"Hey, leave him alone!" the gardener shouted, yanking the cat by the scruff of its neck. With his other hand, he scooped up the terrified bird. "It's all right now, little fellow. No one'll hurt you."

Finnian dumped the kitten on the ground and cradled the bird to his chest, the former meowing in protest. "No, no," he told it, "I don't care how hungry you are. You're not eating my friend."

Finnian spent the rest of the afternoon carrying the bird around- it was a small sparrow- and running through the Phantomhive grounds. He jumped about and laughed, the kitten at his heels all the while. When the sun set, he encouraged the sparrow to fly away.

"I have to report back now," he told the kitten, "I hope you learned your lesson."

It tried to follow him but Finnian stilled it with a wag of his finger. "Sorry, but I can't play anymore. I don't know if I'll have any work tonight or not."

Finnian admitted he was not looking forward to seeing Sebastian again. He had only so recently gotten rid of the sad feelings. So it was to his relief and surprise when the butler was nowhere to be seen upon Finnian's arrival in the parlor.

Mei-Rin was standing by the cook, adjusting her sliding spectacles and Bard was taking a drag of his cigarette. Tanaka was seated on the couch, holding a cup of tea to his mustache.

"Mr. Sebastian doesn't like it when you smoke in this room," Finnian said, feeling it his duty to inform Bard. The older man only scoffed.

"Well, Sebastian's not here, is he? Just one quick smoke- he won't notice."

Finnian wasn't sure if Bard was aware of what he was saying. It was  _Sebastian Michaelis_  for heaven's sake- of course he'd notice! But he doubted he'd manage to persuade the cook. Bard was stubborn like that.

"Where's Mr. Sebastian?" Finnian asked, "and the young master?"

"They've gone out," Mei-Rin said, "Mr. Sebastian's orders: wait for them when they get back. That'd be by eight sharp." She pointed at the grandfather clock. "They should be back in- in- um-"

"Five minutes, give or take," Bard answered for her, squashing the butt of his cigarette with a pinch.

If they had gone out shopping, Finnian would have been informed. The general silence Bard and Mei-Rin kept about the outing was all Finnian needed to know. The young master was doing dangerous work and the manor needed to be manned in Sebastian's absence. Finnian fidgeted with his hands while they waited.

"Do you think Mr. Sebastian hates me?" he blurted, cheeks reddening immediately when he realized what he had said.

"Feels like he hates everyone," Bard laughed.

Finnian's face fell. Bard shrugged apologetically before patting the youth on the head. "Just a joke, Finny. Sebastian's a scary one, but he's got his moments. Sides, we're a rowdy bunch."

"He's a patient man," Mei-Rin added, "you'll be just fine in the morning."

She said it with a wobbly smile, as if she too had felt the same way. But the blush in her cheeks gave her away. Bard once said that they should take whatever the maid had to say about Sebastian with a "grain of salt" because in her lovesick eyes, he was the most perfect being who ever walked the earth. And that was an understatement.

Finnian knew his friends were trying to help and he felt rather guilty for not being comforted. "But I ruined the garden."

"You do that all the time," Bard said.

"Maybe it's because I ruin it all the time that-"

His next words never came out. The distinct sound of the mansion doors was heard. Bard hurriedly stuffed the cigarette into a stained pocket, while Mei-Rin straightened to attention. Finnian followed suit, waiting nervously while the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the main hall. He could have swore he heard someone crying in pain, along with a mumble that seemed to be the young master's voice.

In spite of their prepared stances, the servants still jumped when Sebastian's head popped into the parlor. The butler approached them, a sour expression on his face.

"Mr. Sebastian!" Mei-Rin called. He didn't return the greeting.

"The young master has brought a  _guest_  to our manor," he said, inspecting the line of servants, "this guest has some information our master needs. And it's crucial that nothing happen to him or the young master before said information is gathered, understood?"

Finnian didn't quite understand. Mei-Rin was nodding fiercely beside him.

"Want us to beat him up?" Bard asked.  _Ah, I get it now._

"No. We... have that quite covered. The young master requires my full attention so you three mind the Phantomhive property. Tanaka stays here. Are we clear?"

"C- clear as day!" the maid replied.

With a nod, Sebastian left before Bard and Finnian could utter their own affirmatives. Whoever the "guest" was, they must have been a little important for the butler to call the whole staff in. All Finnian knew was that if anyone wished to harm the young master, they would be politely destroyed.

With this goal in mind, Finnian went ahead and stationed himself in the gardens. He was the Phantomhive gardener after all. The mansion would be left to Bard and Mei-Rin, west and east wings respectively. The rest was up to Tanaka. But Finnian wasn't too worried about the house since Sebastian was home.

As it turned out, the butler had predicted correctly because Finnian soon found himself dodging a few bullets, some lucky shots grazing him in the arms. It stung too. He couldn't really see his attackers in the dark, but he could tell that there were three of them, each wielding an expensive pistol. With what they had, they were fast and they were persistent. He'd give them that.

But they were nothing compared to what the maid could do.

Finnian lifted the nearest statue, muttering an apology at the large slab of marble- the young master had been planning to sculpt something pretty out of it- and thrust. As it turned out, they were no match for the gardener either.

The marble smashed straight into the two at the front, shouts of surprise confirming the hit. The weight of impact had forced the other two to the ground and that was just enough time for Finnian to come at them on foot. After getting a closer look, he realized they were nicely dressed gents.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling his fists back.

It was a shame that he had to dirty their nice suits. When he was sure all four of them had been incapacitated, Finnian checked the wounds on his shoulders. They were still bleeding and they hurt, but he was sure it was nothing that wouldn't go away within the next few days. He turned his head to look at the sky and nearly cried out in surprise when a stream of red dashed across the dark clouds.

It was bright, hot red. A bright, hot streak that pierced the mansion window.

Mansion window.  _What just happened?!_

It was the gardener's job to take care of outside threats and he had no idea what that was. Was it a rock from the heavens? A cannon gone wrong? Some kind of bomb? These thoughts jabbed at him as he rushed toward the manor.

When he entered at last, cracked shards of glass were strewn all about the hall. Following the muddy footprints, the gardener raced towards the staircase. At the foot of it was the back of a man- woman?- his shock of red hair trailing down to the waist. And lying at the top of the staircase was a battered mid-aged man, a dash of gray in his blondish hair, an alarming amount of blood spreading through his shoulder.

The Phantomhive butler stood beside him, glowering at the red-clad figure with extreme irritation.

"Bassie, I thought you'd be happier to see me!" The voice was deep. So the figure was a man?

Sebastian moved in front of the wounded man. "Did you have to come now? We were in the middle of a conversation."

"Don't get snippy, darling. That one- Chester Jameson Aberly- has evaded death twice already this past year. Really, it's about time we take him- and I really need something good on my record."

"My master promised to spare his life if he cooperated. Mr. Aberly's finally agreed so I'm afraid he  _will_  live."

The man named Aberly was wheezing as they spoke, pointing in horror at the man in red. That was when Finnian noted the stream of blood on the staircase- it was this man that had injured Aberly. But with what?

"Have it your way."

The man in red jumped up, red coat- strangely familiar, but not easy enough to pinpoint in such rapid movement- trailing behind him. With a laugh, he turned in midair, revealing razor teeth and a spinning saw (?) in his hands. His face reminded Finnian of someone... someone annoying. But he didn't have the luxury to recall it.

The gardener rushed after the madman. "Mr. Sebastian- watch out!"

The warning didn't seem necessary because in the next flash, Sebastian was trading blows with his opponent, silverware rapidly striking the alien saw. The butler dodged as the saw struck at his head and again when it came at his legs, ripping parts of the coattails. Finnian knew what Sebastian and the young master would have wanted him to do.

He shot up the stairs and planted himself by Aberly's side, placing both hands on the man's shoulder, trying hard to stem the wound without crushing the owner's body. "You'll be fine," he repeated, "you'll be fine."

" _Oh, no you don't_!"

The spinning saw was before his eyes. With a cry, Finnian rolled aside, the weapon nicking the sleeve of his shirt. But his attacker had no intention of relenting. Finnian did the only thing he could in that short span of time- he braced himself for the pain. The edges of the moving saw were slicing at his bangs.

"It's a pity you had to get in the way!" the redhead shouted, "you're such a cute one."

"FINNIAN!"

What he saw next was blood, a sheet of red that splashed over the assailant's face. And then he was tackled to the floor, hands pushing at him so violently that he felt bruises burst. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was unharmed. How? Regaining his senses, Finnian shot up.

"I do so love to see you bleed," the assailant purred.

Sebastian was crouched between them, right hand gripping his side, crimson dripping into a spreading pool around his form. Finnian could only stare, noting the diagonal tear in his superior's body, dragging from his side to his shoulder.

"Mr. Sebastian!" Finnian shouted, on the verge of tears.

"Stay back, Finny," the butler said softly.

Sebastian stood up shakily, pulling another handful of knives out. What next came out of his mouth was a low, malicious chuckle. "I don't know why you're not attacking. This wound has such small effect."

That rallied the redhead up. He came again, the saw whirring. Sebastian evaded every swing, and save for the increased pants in his breath, Finnian could detect no change. Most of the knives were deflected, a few scratching the other man on the hand. They looked evenly matched to the youth. But the madman was fine... and Sebastian was not.

The next surprise happened when the grandfather clock chimed midnight. The whirring of the saw came to a stop as the redhead gave a frightened curse. Sebastian used that time to deliver a heavy kick to the man's jaw. The latter stumbled back, wiping the blood from his spit lip.

"Damn it!" he hissed, "this took far longer than it should have. Damn you, Bassie- I can't stay here. I'm overtime- oh, confound it- damn it-"

Sebastian aimed another kick and this time, the redhead dodged. He flipped himself down the stairs.

"Then you better leave now," the butler called.

"This isn't over, Bassie!"

In a whirl of red, he was gone, moving so fast that Finnian wondered if he had teleported or flew away instead of dashing threw the hall and out the ruined window. For his part, Sebastian returned to Aberly's side, Finnian noticing the smallest of limps in his movements.

"All right, where's the new intruder!?" Bard's voice demanded, the cook appearing at the corner of the main hall, a few cuts on his face. Mei-Rin was quick to join him from the opposite side, equally disheveled.

"T- they took out all my men," Aberly rasped.

"It will save you a fortune in the future," was Sebastian's terse reply, "now, the young master expected you to hold up until morning. He went to bed in the meantime- I'm sure it will be a pleasant surprise when I tell him you gave us your cooperation so early."

"Don't kill me," the other man whimpered, "I'll tell- tell you where the drugs are, the money, the people- p- pleas-"

The butler ripped off a coattail and quickly bound Aberly's wound. "That should hold for a while. Baldroy, Mei-Rin, take him to a guest room and fetch a doctor. Of course, we could tend him ourselves-"

" _Please, please no_!"

As Bard lifted Aberly into his arms, he looked the butler over. "Sure you don't want a doctor yourself- not looking so good there."

"No need. Hurry with Mr. Aberly."

"Right away," Mei-Rin said, moving to help Bard with their "guest." As the pair made a turn toward the west hall, Finnian was left alone with Sebastian.

"Finny, your presence was unexpected, but Mr. Aberly may have died without your intervention... I commend you."

That small smile was on the butler's lips. Finnian opened his mouth to speak but came up dry. He suddenly felt very guilty. He had spent the whole day wondering if Sebastian hated him. He had spent the whole day upset at someone who took a near fatal blow for him. The butler had gotten hurt because of him and that was too much to take.

"Finny, are you crying?"

"Mr. Sebastian!" he wailed, slamming himself into the man and throwing his arms around the other's waist.

"F- finny-"

"I'm sorry!" Finnian blubbered, burying his face in the butler's chest, "you're so good to me, Mr. Sebastian-"

"Finny, please-"

"I promise I'll be better from now on!" he sobbed.

" _Finnian_."

"Y- yes?"

"You just crushed my rib cage."

Horrified, the gardener let go, staring up at Sebastian with puffed eyes. "I'm sorry!" he cried, "I'm so sorry!" He really was. He hadn't meant to- hurting the butler even  _more_  was the last thing he wanted to do.

"It's nothing," Sebastian assured him with a sigh, wincing as he touched an undoubtedly broken rib, "now wipe those tears and prepare to retire. Tomorrow, I intend to instruct you on the proper way to pluck plants... again."

Finnian nodded eagerly. He knew it was a bad time to ask, but there was another problem he needed to inform Sebastian of. "There's a lost cat by the greenhouse. I don't know if it's still there- if it is, wh- what do we do with it?"

To the gardener's surprise, Sebastian's eyes quite literally brightened. The butler beamed at him. It was the look of pure happiness. And that was a rare thing to see on Sebastian's face.

"We're certainly not getting rid of it. But Finny, just this once, don't tell the young master."

"So it'll be our secret?"

"Indeed."

It was Finny's turn to grin. After uttering a quick parting, Sebastian began making his way toward his own quarters. Finnian, however, was unable to forget about the large wound and the crushed ribs. So he ran after the butler, insisting on helping Sebastian to his room, to the latter's indignant protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This one got longer than I expected. I hope you liked it as much as the last few chapters and that everyone was reasonably in character. Again, kudos/comments are welcome.
> 
> Next time: The Cook (Baldroy)


	4. The Cook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next addition! It's got more swearing than the other chapters because Bard's pov is vulgar. Since we know so little about his backstory in the manga, I tried to keep his past as ambiguous as possible.
> 
> Also, there's noncon in this chapter- nothing above a T, but in case it makes you uncomfortable, I've put XX before it begins and after it ends, so you can skip that part if you don't want to see it. (Don't worry too much- the character who goes through it couldn't give less of a crap about it.)

  **II. The Cook**

Bard felt for the coins in his pockets. He hadn't been given enough to actually buy more than he needed and he had been warned against spending his own allowance on so-called useless expenditures. Juggling a package of spices in one hand and a heavy slab of American beef in the other, he turned to look at the clock behind a shop window as a number of different persons walked past him.

It was a quarter past nine. The air was cold and the sky was dark. Truth be told, this hadn't been the way he planned to spend his one day off. He'd rather have spent it at the manor, sleeping in and playing cards with Finny. But Mr. Oh-so-perfect-Michaelis had called him out for burning their last supply of American meat.  _Didn't look too bad to me._

The cook generally regarded Sebastian as a fine colleague, but he had to admit, a good portion of the time, the butler did nothing but annoy him with the most trivial of things. Bard summed it down to arrogance, bossiness, and a bad temper that Sebastian was good at hiding. And when Sebastian wasn't doing that, he was doing things that disturbed his fellow servants- who the hell creeps up on people like that?

The young master- who was probably enjoying one last round of tea at this time- had a dinner party scheduled tomorrow, which made the supplies even more crucial. And despite his rugged exterior, Bard hated seeing the little boy disappointed so he had volunteered to waste his free day shopping for meat.

_"Make sure you do it, Bard. I need something not only edible, but tasty," the young master had said, not once looking up from his newspaper._

_"Young master, would trusting Bard be a prudent decision?" Sebastian had asked, leaning over the master's shoulder and Bard had shouted an indignant "hey!"_

_"Of course not. You go with him, Sebastian. Besides, there's another task I need you to take care of."_

Actually, the butler had offered to go alone about ten times, but Bard was having none of it. On a man's honor, he had to do what he promised the young master. That, and Sebastian's blatant criticism of everyone but himself bothered the cook to no end. Bard had promised to do something correctly, and by all that was holy, he would.

It had taken all afternoon and a good portion of the evening, mostly because Bard had insisted on arguing with Sebastian on which meat was the best. He hadn't won the arguments and he suspected Sebastian had sent him off to buy spices and whatnot for the beef in some half-hearted effort to appease him. Bard would never admit it, but it worked.

Choosing the right spices had taken longer than he expected it would, but that was the price of being a competent chef. Sebastian, however, had disappeared on whatever task he had to do and Bard didn't know where to look for him or where to wait for him. The butler was  _one hell_  of an irksome person.

"Can't even go get a drink," he muttered to himself. The last thing he wanted was for Sebastian to find him slumped over a counter, reeking of alcohol.

When he turned away from the window, Bard found himself face to face with a lean brunette. The other man was staring at him with eager blue eyes, his face lined with fresh stubble. From the looks of it, the fellow was working class. It took a good moment for the realization to strike- he knew this man. But the last time he had seen that face, it had been as smooth as a baby's.

"Simon?" he asked in disbelief, "Simon Blake?"

Blake cracked a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Baldroy, good old Baldo, was wonderin' how long it'd take you."

"Sims, shit, shit, it's like seeing a ghost."

Blake walked up to him and patted his back, eyeing the packages in his hands. Bard could only repeat shock in his brain- so Blake hadn't died. Sims, the first man- boy- he called brother. Sims, who had drank with him and danced and fought with him in the darkest of times. Sims, his brother-in-arms on the front lines. This was the youth who had convinced him that they were too deep in blood to turn back. This was the man who had robbed with him, killed with him, gambled with him.

"You're getting awfully pale there, Baldo."

"You son of a bitch, why didn't you tell me you were still alive!?"

Dropping the packages, Bard charged, his fist running clear into Blake's nose. The latter stumbled back, holding a hand to his bleeding nostrils.

"Wait, Baldo, wait! There were people after me- don't tell me you're stupid 'nough to think they'd let us get away with swindling so much."

"I thought you drowned in New York!"

Blake grabbed his arm. "Calm down- don't make a scene, Baldo. You disappeared too, you know? Came all the way to England!"

"Least  _I_  didn't fake my death."

"Fuck you, Sims."

"If you still call me that, you can't hate me all that much." Blake stepped back, wiping the blood off his face. "You did so much better than me, Baldo. Look at ya, those clothes look new. And that pretty gent you were with, I'd never be caught dead with someone like that... I wasn't sure it was you til you talked."

"Tch. It's called hard work," Bard replied, looking down at the packages. He hoped they weren't ruined. Wait- alarms went through his head. "Pretty gent? We were only together for that much time- Sims, you were  _following_  me?"

Blake gave a sheepish chuckle. "No harm done? Come on, I didn't expect to find you here."

"Quit faking it, Simon. You didn't want me in your life before. What do you want now?"

"Baldo-"

"It's Bard now. That name's got nothing to do with me anymore." He glared.

"Fine, Baldroy. I... there's a debt we've got to settle. You punching me in the nose is only part of it."

Blake's face had darkened and Bard narrowed his own eyes as the implications dawned. Whatever had transpired in the past, some of that blame had fallen on him. It meant the end of their comradeship- the most severe of cuts to an unspoken tie. But looking at Blake now, knowing what the other man had done, Bard couldn't wait to be rid of him. The duo that was Baldo and Sims had died within him long ago anyway.

"Right, so what do you want?" he demanded.

"Anyone with you?"

"No. You?"

"No. All right, Bald-roy, follow me."

Gathering the packages back into his arms, Bard walked after Blake, trying to quell the rage inside him. He was already prepared to beat the shit out of the other man and leave him smashed and broken on the street. If the opposite happened- well, that wouldn't happen. Blake led him through alleys that got progressively dirtier. At the end of the sixth one they passed, they entered a small door on the side of a run-down building.

The place was damp and dark, the only light coming from a rickety gas fixture hanging off the ceiling. Bard set the packages on the floor and removed his hat. In front of him, Blake took off his own jacket.

"I know what I have to settle," Bard said lowly, "tell me what you want, Simon."

Blake wore no expression. To the cook's surprise, he sighed. "Baldo, you've never been sharper than me."

 _Shit. Of all the underhanded, dirty things!_  Bard knew what was to come before it even happened.

He heard footsteps. A group of men appeared behind Blake from the shadows- five. Their sleeves were rolled up and a few of them carried handguns. The closest thing Bard had to weapons were his matches and the slab of meat. He didn't doubt that he could take them on, but in this space and with that advantage, he wasn't in the best of positions.

"I really did love you as a brother," Blake dared to say, "but we've got a score to settle. That day in New York, you ratted me out for money. Right before the big bet too- a lot of 'em wanted me killed. My own brother would do this?"

"The fucking hell!?" Bard shouted, "you think  _I'd_  rat you out. You have screws for brains!? You know how many people I've killed so you could be safe!? Fuck you!"

"No,  _fuck you_ , Baldo. These men with me? We're not friends. I owe them a lot to stay alive," Blake hissed, "so you can repay your part of the score by paying for me. You can put your ass on the line-"

"I'm not doing shit for you!"

Bard lowered his fists when one of the men pointed a gun at him. Point blank range. He wouldn't be able to escape that. The bastard looked a bit older than him, with feathery hair and a tight jaw. The man standing at the back came into view as well. He was bulky, Bard would give him that, bulky and well-built behind those work clothes. His eyes though- they looked hungry, the kind that'd do anything for blood.

Blake pointed at the bulky one, a slight tremble in his own movements. "This here is old Mull. Mull's been real impatient with me- you see, Baldo, Mull's  _that_  type of man."

"I'm not too patient with you either."

"No, you see," Blake said hesitantly, "he doesn't just like women. In fact, he thinks men are the bigger thrill."

 _Oh you're kidding me!_  Mull was eyeing Bard, and to the latter's horror, he swore he saw a smirk. Another gun was trained on him.

"So I'm going to let you pay here first," Blake said, "then you're going to tell us what rich gent you work for."

"And then what- you kill me?"

"We'll bloody see," Featherhead said.

Bard pondered his options as all guns pointed at him. He hadn't expected the night to take a turn like this. It made him want to blow some heads up. He couldn't do anything with those weapons so close and with the numbers so great against him. To even do anything else, he would have to go through with whatever torture Blake had suggested first. It was a horrific, humiliating thought, but if it bought him enough time to make his move, he'd soldier through it.

"Take off the jacket," Mull ordered, a little too eagerly.

Disgusted, Bard shed the article. There went his matches. Featherhead sauntered up to him, pressing the gun to his temple. He had half a mind to screw it all and sock the bastard in the face. Mull took a step closer, Blake watching in morbid fascination-

Click.

" _Where were you?_ "

Never had Bard been more relieved to hear that voice. For the first time in his life, he thought Sebastian's voice was the best thing to ever come into existence. He turned his head and sure enough, the butler was standing at the entrance, one hand on the door. His eyes flicked to Bard and then to the damned group.

"I suggest you release him," he said.

Featherhead threatened to press the trigger. "Close the door." Bard expected Sebastian to pull one of his infuriating miracles and whisk them both out of there. Of all things, he would never have expected Sebastian to do what he did.

He closed the door, his face a mask of indifference.  _What the hell!?_

"You- you stay right there!" Blake barked, "when we're through with him-"

"No," Mull stated, loud and clear. He licked his lips and Bard could have sworn the man's eyes brightened. "I'd like to make a deal with this one."

"Of what nature?" Sebastian asked.

Bard couldn't let this go on. Leave it to Sebastian to lose his wits when their lives were in danger. "Open that damn door!" he cried, "Sebastian, get out of here!"

Featherhead kicked him in the ribs. Bard latched onto the foot and both of them tumbled. Featherhead's lackey chose that moment to come to the rescue and soon Bard found himself pinned between both men, one gun pointed at each side of his head. His desperate attempts seemed to go right past Sebastian.

"We let your Baldroy go," Mull said, his grin growing by the minute, "if you take his place." Then he added in a low, sultry tone, "you're so much prettier,  _Sebastian_."

The butler stayed rooted to the spot, perplexity on his face. "Ah, I see now."

And to Bard's horror, Sebastian walked right up to the fucking bastard. "Very well," he said.

**XX**

Shit. Shit! Bard had a plan, he really did. But how the hell was he supposed to think in this situation? At the moment, all that was swept out of his mind. He just wanted to stop the butler. "Don't do it!" Bard fumed, "just let them do what they want- Sebastian, don't you dare!"

Mull was on Sebastian by then, knocking the man to the ground and pulling him up the collar. He traced the trickle of blood from the other man's mouth. Bard wanted to puke. Like hell he was going to let Sebastian go through this.

"Hey! Hey- Simon- you said you wanted me to pay!" he called.

Mull practically ripped the black coat off. He wasn't stopping- he wasn't fucking stopping. Bard thrashed, dangerously close to the held guns. He watched as Mull hungrily tore at Sebastian's jacket.

"He's got nothing to do with this, Blake! Damn it- it's me you want!" Bard roared.

Sebastian was stripped to the waist by then, Mull biting and clawing at him, taking his fucking time to undo the trousers. Blake ignored all of Bard's pleads. He started cursing anew when the remaining man joined Mull.

"Ah, ah, all those fancy clothes- what you- you do?" Mull demanded, grunting as Sebastian bobbed beneath him.

"I am a butler." He sounded so fucking calm Bard was starting to see red.

"So what you do all day, suck your master's dick?" Nameless laughed, lifting the man by his black hair. They flipped him on his back and...

Bard shut his eyes. He couldn't think if he saw. He might really blow a fuse and get them all killed if he looked. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it all before- it disgusted him every time. But it was Sebastian of all people going through this- arrogant, pristine Sebastian, diligent head butler and one of the rare people Bard respected. No, he couldn't stand to see Sebastian humiliated and broken. He couldn't bring himself to.

"You have a lover, butler?" they were asking. "No," was the muffled reply.

"Never?" Groans. "I bet you did," Mull's voice said, "I bet it was a nice girl- dead- dead- six feet under." He was laughing.

"You're so good- good at ah, this," Nameless said, "what were you- a- a whore?" He cried out in ecstasy.

"Baldo your lover?" Somewhere along the line, Sebastian had stopped replying.

"To do this for him... Ah, you're so pathetic!" Were they getting off to the insults?

"Or are you a might lonely bastard- all alone and no one to turn to?" "What's there- dead family? Dead mates? Or never any!"

"Oh, oh, he feels good! You're a bloody devil, whore!"

"No, leave the gloves on- they're dirty like 'em all!"

**XX**

The groans didn't reach Bard's ears. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care if those damn questions were supposed to be insults- he wouldn't let them do this to Sebastian any longer. Bard's eyes snapped open and he moved. He turned on his captors- kill him if they dared!

Featherhead made to press the gun, but instead, a scream was torn from his throat. It happened at the same time as another pained shout. It was the worst scream of pain Bard had ever heard. Mull was now slumped on the floor, his mouth gaping, a huge amount of blood pouring from his lower parts. It was the most humiliating, painful way to be felled.

Sebastian was sitting next to the man, dressing himself in the ripped shirt, gloves bloodied beyond repair. Bard chose to stop ogling Sebastian and actually put his plan to work. He plunged his fingers into Featherhead's eyes and as the other screamed, he kicked the lackey away. Mull was a damn good distraction.

In that span of time, Bard scooped up Featherhead's weapon. He was no Mey-Rin, but he was good enough with a shot to be confident that these bastards would all be blown into kingdom come. Except Blake. Oh, he'd beat the shit out of that one first.

Nameless was now writhing in pain on the floor, Sebastian calmly crushing his ankle. When he was done, the butler showed himself to the door, a smirk on his features.

"Sebastian, don't leave yet! Let's make these bastards pay!"

"Whatever makes you think I'm leaving?" With that, the door opened. And to Blake's horror, a dozen men trooped in. Men from the Yard.

"Baldo- Baldo," Blake tried to reason, "you wouldn't let them take me, would you?"

Bard shot him in the thigh. And as Blake went down, Bard tackled him. The Yard was too busy collecting the other men to stop Bard from pounding the daylights out of Simon Blake. He would probably have killed the man too if it wasn't for Sebastian staying his hand.

Bard took one look at the butler's disheveled face and he wanted to smash Blake to bits.

"Let go, Sebastian- this is all his fault! Damn fucking traitor. I'll let you take a swing-"

"Bard, we need him alive."

"Are you mad, Sebastian!? He's the reason you were..." the word died in his mouth.

"It was nothing. More importantly, Simon Blake has been conspiring against Funtom's business partner with these gentlemen. The losses were rather heavy on the young master last week. It would do him a great service if we let them pay their dues in prison."

Sebastian said it rather cheerfully. He let go and Bard lowered his shaking fists. Blake was a bloodied mess under him, his face swollen and busted. Not enough, in Bard's opinion. But maybe jail would be better than death. If the Earl of Phantomhive had anything to say about it, he could see these sons of bitches facing life. And they assaulted the earl's servants- surely that had to count for something.

So begrudgingly, Bard turned away from Blake with one last sentence, "There's no Baldo here."

"Would you step outside?" the inspector asked, more like ordered. His name escaped Bard- Abberline or something of the like.

Bard gathered the packages that he certainly hadn't forgotten while Sebastian picked up the remains of his clothing. If it wasn't for the wrinkles and tears in his uniform, Bard could detect no evidence of what had transpired on Sebastian's person. But still, he was angry- furious, really.

"Why, Sebastian?" he demanded, "why'd you do it?"

"The Yard needed time to arrive. I was early."

 _Then you could have let them break me instead_. "You should've just let them take me. Wouldn't make a difference."

"Well, the choice was not up to you, Bard."

The cook grabbed his forearm and thrust himself at Sebastian's face. "Damn it! You think I'd feel good letting- letting that happen to you!?" His tone softened. "I hated every minute, Sebastian."

When he released the other man, Sebastian was staring at him with that same alien confusion, as if it completely baffled him that Bard would care. That in itself baffled Bard. Did he think so cruelly of the cook? Or was the butler's self-worth really that low? The revolting words came back to mind.

"What they said about you... I don't give a shit," Bard said, one man to another man, "bet it was all lies anyway."

Sebastian smiled. "The sentiment is appreciated, Bard. But rest assured, only one of their statements was true."

The butler turned away, tugging at his ruined gloves. Only one statement? Bard's heart literally sunk. There were a lot of nasty things said back there- did Sebastian really have a dead wife? Had he really been involved in prostitution? Did he really have no one left? It was then that Bard realized he had never given the butler's life much thought. It had never occurred to him that perhaps, just perhaps, Sebastian had lived a tragedy just like the rest of them. Then again, it had also never crossed his mind that Sebastian would make so great a sacrifice for him.

There was a time to be angry, but there was no need to be a bastard to a man who just went through all that for Bard's sake.

"Sebastian, on the way back, I think we should go see a doctor."

"Are you hurt?"

 _Is he for real!?_  "No, I'm surprised you can walk straight. I think we should get you checked over-"

"No need."

"Listen here-"

"We need to file our statements and return to the young master. Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary."

They were back to square one. Frustrated, Bard wanted to leave the argument. But it was his duty as a colleague, a Phantomhive servant, and a  _friend_  to win this argument. When Inspector Abberline stepped out of the building, he was met with the sight of the Phantomhive cook shouting and shaking the frowning butler by the shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope that lived up to expectations and that XX wasn't too uncomfortable for readers; I apologize if it was. Again, feel free to leave kudos/comments and let me know you found everyone in character or not!
> 
> So basically, I think the sexual abuse wouldn't have bothered Sebastian because he's a demon and he was just toying with them to buy more time (but poor Bard doesn't know that). He could have killed everyone then and there, but in this scenario, Ciel wants the people who caused him more paperwork to suffer a fate worse than death, haha.
> 
> Next time: The Maid (Mey-Rin)


	5. The Maid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made it to Mey-Rin! Thanks for all the support- it really means a lot and motivates me so much. So this chapter's a bit more "fan-girly" because let's be honest, Mey-Rin's the biggest Sebastian fawner there is, haha.

**I.**   **The Maid**

Mey-Rin was, for all her skill, a sheepish girl. She admitted it and to be honest, she was not too ashamed. That wasn't saying she was proud of her clumsiness and perpetual tendency to ruin plates, of course. She would do anything to be good at her job- not just one part, all of it. She was the only maid in the Phantomhive household, after all. It was a harder mantle to carry than most thought.

Even harder was pleasing the Phantomhive butler. The mere thought of him reddened her cheeks. Mey-Rin admitted that Sebastian Michaelis was the first man to reduce her to this. It was in the elegant gait of his walk, the seductive smile, the ever-mystery in his delicate eyes, the clean demeanor, the charm- But it hadn't always been that way.

She had found him handsome from the first day they met, when she was a lost sniper with nowhere to turn and nothing to lose. She had been baffled by the butler's ability to perfect. She remembered that for a good few weeks, she was terrified of this inhuman man. Weeks turned into days, days when she noticed the silky tones of his voice. Days that turned into hours, hours when she began admiring his dedication to saving the staff from whatever disaster they created. Once, he stopped her from a nasty tumble down the stairs and caught her falling laundry with one hand. He cut a splendid figure that day and she realized he always did. He was beautiful, really, working in the house and... in her dreams.

Even with her blurred vision, she knew this was true. She knew it when her heart sped up, when the blood rushed to her head. She had seen men before, enough to know that even the best were flawed. She had even been with men before, enough to know that there was no such thing as true romance.

So her childish attraction to Sebastian Michaelis was the most unfounded thing that had ever taken hold of her life.

More than two years she had spent under the young master's roof and this supposed fancy had only grown by the day. Bard made it a habit to mock her for it. The young master had found it amusing and Finny, well, Finny was the one whose ears were always open to her gushing. Sebastian himself, however, never seemed to pay much mind, though Mey-Rin knew she was embarrassingly obvious.

At the moment, she was too embarrassed to think straight.

"Psst, Mey-Rin, psst," the gardener whispered as he waltzed past her on the dance floor. There was a hot blush on his cheeks as well.

She knew the young master had done strange things in the name of duty- who was she to judge? But this, this had to be the strangest one yet. The Marquis Middleford had, for the young master's sake, thrown a ball in his summer house. The goal had been to attract a visiting Frenchman, someone whose name she couldn't pronounce. To make his own presence completely undetectable, the Earl of Phantomhive hadn't attended.

Or rather, said he hadn't. The young master had come as a pageboy, specifically the errand boy of a well-to-do businessman interested in the Frenchman's activity. All Mey-Rin really knew about their target was that he was an art thief and the  _Victoria and Albert Museum_  had been recently robbed. The Marquis' summer home hosted an array of portraits gifted from the aristocracy and the Yard hoped this would be enough to trap the man.

The young master needed his businessman, Sebastian, or rather, Victor Milson, to plant the seed in their man. And Mey-Rin was to play the part of Mrs. Milson, which was why she now found herself in Sebastian's arms as he swept her across the dance floor. The young master was helping with the refreshments, head kept low.

And Finny was decked in a wig and pink dress, dancing away with a guffawing Bard,  _her_  "brother." Why the young master needed the whole staff with him was beyond Mey-Rin. She assumed it was for security measures- it wouldn't do for the young master's reputation if he allowed harm to come to his uncle's property. But she did wonder why the young master even owned a pink dress in the first place.

"F- Finny, now's not a good time," she replied at last, Sebastian guiding their groups closer.

She'd never actually waltzed with the butler before. In reality, at least. He was everything she expected and more. That was not a good thing for her blush. Her spectacles were tucked away in an unattended purse and she felt out of place in this dress- she knew enough about her job to know that it was not the maid's place to wear something like this, with its fancy ribbons and silky material.

Sebastian- Victor- was another matter. She had never seen in anything that wasn't a uniform. Even with her obscured vision, it was simply unsettling to see him in beige, his tie replaced with a violet cravat. And did he have to be so good with his part? Did he have to cradle her head in his chest and smile at every turn?

"Sebast-" Finny said, only to be cut off by Bard's, " _Mr. Milson_."

"Can we help you, gentlemen?" Sebastian said lowly, his pace unchanging.

"Where's the man?" Finny asked, "I just thought maybe, Mey- Mrs. Milson- could see farther."

At those words, Mey-Rin scanned the ballroom, every pair around her a blur. The clearest figures were at the corners, but no one seemed particularly suspicious.

"Ah, what's the rush Finny?" Bard asked, "we just got to wait, right Sebas- Victor?"

"Indeed," the butler said, "just wait for the young master's direction."

The music swelled and Mey-Rin was guided away. She swore that she saw Finny trip over a footman. That would explain the dent in the floor. She was sure that she stepped on the toes of at least three guests by this point. When the musicians reached the last note, Sebastian led her away from the dance floor. He lifted a glass of champagne from one of the Marquis' staff and stuck it in her hand.

It took her a moment to make out the features of the refreshment table, lined with bottles of wine and what she assumed to be horderves. It took her another moment to realize that Sebastian had left her side in favor of inspecting the table cloth.

"Really, young master, a pageboy should never be caught sneaking food from the table," the man chuckled, tapping the cloth with his foot.

"Tch." That was no doubt, the boy's voice.

Mey-Rin saw a bulge behind the cloth before Sebastian darted under the table, so quickly that no one took note. But Mey-Rin was not no one. I _t'd be awfully embarrassing if they were caught under the table. Ah! I'm all alone now- what do I do- what do I-_

"This is a deep shade of red,  _rouge_ ," a husky voice purred behind her, fingers in her locks.

Failing to control a gasp of surprise, she turned to see the man beside her. He was tall, even strapping from what she could tell, with dirt blond hair and honey brown eyes. A light goatee decorated his chin.

"Can you speak, my lady?" he asked, coming around to stand in front of her.

 _Brush him off. You can do it. You can do it!_  "I- uh- I'm sorry!"

Damn it. He didn't seem too off put by her, at least. The man laughed, a low soft sound that reminded her too much off of the Phantomhive butler- that was not a good thing for her heating face. He made to touch her arm and out of instinct, she recoiled, the glass in her hands falling forward, its contents about to spill over the blond's copper suit.

Mey-Rin was steadied by a familiar grip. The white gloves snatched the falling glass and effortlessly collected the champagne. One hand on her shoulder, Sebastian placed the glass back in her hand, offering her a look of concern.

"You've had a bit much to drink, dear," he said, "are you all right?"

"F- fine," she squeaked.

"That was an impressive display," the other man said, calling her attention back to his presence, "is this lovely lady your wife?"

"Yes," the butler replied, his mouth playing with the smile that wasn't quite a smirk.

"That's a shame, for my sake."

Mey-Rin leaned into Sebastian's grip, deciding that she might as well play the part. His eyes never left the other man. "Perhaps. Though I can't say so for myself. My wife does tend to attract admirers with the finest taste. Wouldn't you say so... Monsieur Lupin?"

The smile died in the other's eyes. "Why would you call me that?"

"Not so loud, Monsieur." Sebastian was definitely smirking by then. "I thought that was what they called you in this circle. You're the most impressive one I've come across yet."

"My name is Dubois. Address me as such. That name is only a fancy alias."

At that, Sebastian responded in French. Mey-Rin assumed he said something that gave Dubois pause. The Frenchman spoke in his native tongue and the two carried on the conversation for a good few minutes before Dubois flashed a devious smile.

"If you want to discuss further, M. Milson, we should leave the, how do you say, masses."

"Very well."

Dubois turned, his hair tied back in a thin ponytail that trailed down his back. Sebastian took her hand in his own. "Come, dear." She only nodded in acknowledgement, a knot forming in her stomach. She hadn't really expected to be in such close proximity with the thief.

As the three of them made their way out of the ballroom, Mey-Rin noted a small shadow keeping behind them. The young master was surprisingly good at sneaking about. To be honest, that impressed her.

The hallways were dimly lit and Mey-Rin nearly mistook a statue for a living person at least twice. When they arrived at the Marquis' guest bathroom, Dubois showed them in, as if he knew everything there was to know about a stranger's home. Another thing that reminded her far too much of the butler.

Once inside, Dubois locked the door. He turned to stare at the couple. "So, you tell me you've never stolen a painting in your life?"

"Nothing of value," Sebastian said casually, "I haven't stolen in a very long time. I needed time to build up the means."

Dubois chuckled. "Oui. I steal for the rich from the rich. It's a strange, seductive system."

"You said you had your eye on the Marquis' study?"

"Yes, seventeenth century Flemish. I do like a thrill, my dear Milson. Stealing from museums is one matter. From another's home, well, that's a whole other matter."

The man walked up to them, wrapping one arm about Sebastian's shoulder. Mey-Rin saw his other arm reach into his jacket, the hand coming out wrapped around a dagger. Her own hand immediately went to her dress- one rip and the gun would be out-

"You realize that I would not tell you all this without a price, Milson," Dubois said, "you seem like a capable man. I'd like to see some physical cooperation. We could double the stakes- take out the whole gallery here. Unless you have second thoughts."

The dagger was dangerously close to Sebastian's back.

"We should start, then," the butler said. Still smiling, Dubois stepped away, retracting his weapon. Mey-Rin, in turn, took back her own hand.

Dubois then turned his attention toward the maid. "Your husband says this doesn't bother you. Is it true then, mon cheri, that you enjoy the thrill as much as me?" His gaze was seductive.

"More than ever," she found herself saying.

"After you," he said, opening the door. Mey-Rin stepped out first, the men following after. Luckily, the young master was nowhere to be seen.

When they reached the drawing room on the second level, Sebastian had departed, to Mey-Rin's agitation. Instead of being sent after him, she was pulled into Dubois' embrace, his very warm embrace.

"Don't worry about him," he said. Any closer and he would be nibbling her ear. "It's only a test of mine. If he brings me back what I want, then the three of us will make good friends."

He led her into the drawing room, once again shutting and locking the door. It was then that Mey-Rin realized that the staff in the summer house was in sore need of training- they must have left at least a dozen rooms unattended. Dubois seemed to think she was musing for other reasons. He sat on the couch and pulled her into his lap.

"Ah! What-"

"Shush," he said, batting his long lashes. "Believe me, pleasure is all I want to give."

"Mr. Dubois!" she said, aghast, "I'm married-"

"He'll be gone for a long time, cheri. Men like him don't last very long."

She had an inkling where this was going. It was embarrassing. He caressed her shoulders, pulling at the dress. She was debating whether to agree to this- she hadn't had a man in so long and he was very much like Sebastian- but to play the helpless victim... she wasn't sure if her dignity would tolerate it.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"He's a handsome man, I know that. Probably a good husband too, darling. But can you really stand being tied down to someone so prim? He doesn't trust you the way I could. I could give you all the thrills in the world."

She couldn't tell if he was winking or not.

"No, I don't know-" her hand was on his. She couldn't let him see what she was hiding under the dress. Really, all she could to was distract him with words until Sebastian returned. "He's always been that way."

"Is it the marriage that bothers you? I have more means than this." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that and Milson will be no more."

"I don't-" He cupped her chin and planted his mouth over hers. She felt him force his tongue between her lips. Perhaps it would have felt good on another day. But now she only irritated by him, charm be damned. She shoved him back, pulling away, accidentally biting his lower lip in the process.

He cursed below her, a minuscule dab of blood on his chin. She felt slightly guilty.

"A saucy one," he said, grabbing her once more and flipping them both. And suddenly she was below him, struggling to get away from his fondling hands.  _Don't kill him yet, don't kill him yet, Mey-Rin. Control yourself!_

"Not very gentlemanly for a gentleman thief."

They both went still. Dubois looked up first, brows rising upon the sight that greeted him. The young master stood before them, a pistol in his hands, Sebastian behind him, the door open as if it had never been locked.

"In the name of her majesty, the Queen, I am arresting you."

Dubois set her aside gently, sitting up to smooth his hair, gaze darting between master and butler. "Milson, you haven't been true. But this, I would never have expected this. Well played."

Mey-Rin jumped to her feet as soon as Dubois reached into his pockets. She saw what he was pulling out and it was not the dagger. The young master fired, catching him in the shoulder.  _He needs him alive._

But in spite of his bleeding wound, Dubois never faltered. In one swift motion, he pulled out a small ball and smashed it against the ground. Powder flew out. The young master coughed as Mey-Rin reached for the gun strapped to her thigh. She whipped it out and pressed the trigger just as Dubois made a move she was all too familiar with. He struck a match.

The bullet hit him in the side, right on target, as fire erupted around them. It was gunpowder. And the crash of the window told her Dubois had made his escape.

"Young master!" she screamed, racing towards him. She wrapped her arms around the boy and knocked them both to the floor, her body atop his. She braced herself for the pain as the world exploded in a long, bright flash.

The young master coughed below her.

She heard herself wheezing for breath. She opened her eyes. The young master was clean but shaken. As for herself, she could see bits of soot lining her arms. There was no blood. Not even a singe. Could it have been a miracle? Or had she been hit so hard that her body failed to react?

"Mey-Rin," a soft voice said above her. Sebastian.

In her panic to reach the young master, she had forgotten that he was there. He helped her up before reaching for the figure beneath her. The young master cleared his throat as Sebastian lifted him into a sitting position. The smoke was clearing.

It was then that Mey-Rin saw the butler's right arm, or what was left of it. It was then that she realized why she was fine. The right side of Sebastian's body was a burnt mess, all blood and black and flaps of ruined skin, the clothing burnt to charred tatters.

 _He took the blast_. Her mind tried to wrap itself around that fact. She had been ready to do the exact same thing for the young master and Sebastian somehow felt the need to do so for her.

"Mr. Sebastian...," she said, touching his uninjured hand.

He made no move to acknowledge her, nor did he make any move to shrug away her touch. "Young master, would you like me to pursue him?" he asked.

The boy had stood up by then, staring at the broken window with one smug eye. "No need. If all went according to plan..."

The servants joined their master's side. Looking out, Mey-Rin saw a slew of bodies on the ground, likely Dubois' cohorts, thwarted by Bard and Finny. The Phantomhive servants were sitting with the thief wedged between them, waving up at the young master.

"We caught him!" Bard called, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Young master, we did it!" Finny joined in.

"Not so loud!" the young master snapped before turning back to the mess at hand. "Sebastian, clean this up."

"Yes, my lord."

But Mey-Rin didn't think the butler was in any condition to to anything. Third degree burns would hinder any movement and the thought of her Sebastian going through that pain- "Young master, I'll do it instead. I'll clean it up!"

The boy was about to protest, but Sebastian beat him to it. "We would rather you not, Mey-Rin. I can handle it quicker."

"But you- you're-" she was trying to find the right words and not remind him too much of those injuries.

"Completely fine," he answered for her, "you've done enough for one day, Mey-Rin. And believe me, I do mean that in the highest way."

As the young master made his way to the door, Sebastian cast a smile her way. It was then that the maid realized her feelings for him went beyond a fancy. This was the difference between him and Dubois. Even with all that blood and all those burns, he still looked the immaculate servant. He was still willing to smile at her, to take all those wounds upon himself. It was then that Mey-Rin realized she was in love with Sebastian Michaelis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked my take on Mey-Rin and feel free to leave kudos/comments.
> 
> Okay, Sebastian wasn't supposed to get hurt every chapter. I have no idea why- it just happened. By the time I got to the Finny chapter, I realized that this was forming a pattern so I decided to just roll with it. Besides, he's a demon so none of it actually hurts anyway ;)
> 
> Next chapter: The Butler (Sebastian), warning for major Seb whump


	6. The Butler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for the comments/kudos! We've finally made it to the last chapter. Hope it was worth the wait. Notes: there's a bit of a bloodbath, this chapter treats Sebastian like total crap, and some minor OCs rear their heads.

 

**The Butler**

Fortius quo fidelius  
 **-** _strength through loyalty_

Sebastian was never late. If there was anything about the butler Finnian could be certain of, it was this. Sebastian had promised to be back before six sharp, with enough time to make the young master's dinner preparations and see to the mess of a garden Finnian recently created. The young master had grown irritable by half past six and by seven, Bard had taken dinner upon himself.

Finnian prodded at the remains of blackened carrot in his dish. That didn't go as well as Bard had expected. The young master ate so little, leaving the staff to finish up the rest of the cook's food. Emily and Goethe had their fair share of complaints, but Finnian wasn't sure if those were the snakes' feelings or Snake's own feelings.

The footman was standing in the foyer, staring up the grandfather clock, eyes never leaving the ticking arms. Finnian was perched behind him with the dish of leftovers. He admired Snake's commitment, he really did. The footman hadn't left the position for over an hour. Mey-Rin stopped by a few times to check the time before returning to her work and Bard was stuck in the kitchen. After all, the young master had ordered them to wait for Sebastian's arrival and inform him immediately upon the butler's return.

Finnian had left to relieve himself by half past nine. It was nearly eleven by the time Bard joined the servants in the foyer. Finnian had taken to fidgeting by then. Something was wrong, very very wrong. Sebastian was never late.

It was nearly midnight by the time Tanaka arrived with the young master. The boy's hands were behind his head, still in the process of tying the eye patch, a severe frown on his face.

"Have any of you seen him?" the young master demanded, hands coming to rest on his hips.

"No, says Wilde."

"Are you sure he went looking for chocolate?" Bard asked, scratching his chin.

"It was pre-ordered," the young master said, "it should take an hour at most. And it should take Sebastian mere minutes."

The boy brought two fingers to his patch, stroking the material in thought. Finnian knew the young master was hungry, impatient, likely tired, and in need of his favorite servant. He didn't like seeing the young master so tense.

"Young master," he said, brows furrowing, "what if something- something happened to Mr. Sebastian?"

The earl looked at him as if Finnian had dropped the sky over his head.  _I'm sorry, young master!_  Save for the slithering snakes, the rest of the staff froze as well, as if the mere thought of the possibility that Finnian brought up was too hard to register. Because it was.

The young master's one eye widened. "That's impossible." It seemed to be a statement for himself.

"Black is never late- Finnian makes sense, says Emily," Snake said.

"We could go look for him," Mey-Rin said nervously, in an attempt to soothe the earl.

"Sounds like a plan," Bard said with a nod, "young master, just give us the order-"

Abruptly, the boy's head snapped up, a horrifying realization in his eye. It really bothered the gardener. "Tanaka," the young master ordered, his voice strained, "fetch my cloak. Bard, prepare a carriage. We leave immediately."

"Oh, there should be no need for that," the maid said, "we can go by ourselves. And the young master can-"

"I'm coming!" the boy snapped before turning on his heels.

Watching him leave, Finnian realized it was the fastest he had ever seen the young master walk. Tanaka as well, for that matter.

"Oy, Finny, stop staring," Bard said, running a knuckle in the gardener's head, "we need to get ready. The butler's missing."

Bard took off first, Finnian following, pulling the maid and footman along. There was a lingering anxiety at the back of his mind- a number of things could have happened to the butler, death included, and Finnian's mind refused to acknowledge those kinds of thoughts.

* * *

Black was nowhere to be seen. Snake scanned the emptying street as Smile approached from the corner of  _Hemmelstein's Sweets and Imports_. The glower in the boy's eye told Snake he had no luck finding the butler. The rest of the staff, save the steward, were busy looking into the windows of closing shops.

 _People are watching us,_  Wilde whispered.  _We're too conspicuous,_  Oscar said. Snake agreed. Under normal circumstances, Smile would find more discreet ways to move about, but Snake soon realized these were not normal circumstances. The earl's silent order seemed to be: find the butler at all costs.

Emily slithered up his leg, Dan doing the same to the other. They brought better news.

"Smile," the footman called, "Black was here, says Emily."

The boy adjusted the brim of his hat. "And?" he asked, failing to contain a hint of eagerness.

"We picked up his trail down there," Snake said, Emily pointing her tail down a narrow alleyway, "it's still moving about, says Dan."

"Take me to him," Smile demanded.

With a nod, Snake led the way, the other servants quickly clambering after them. The alley was surprisingly clean and mostly empty save the crates and broken items that lined the walls. Emily's guidance brought them to the very end, where several planks of wood were huddled in some form of a box.

"The trail ends here, says Emily."

"I don't see anything," the gardener whispered.

"No, there's someone in there," Mey-Rin said, placing herself in front of Smile. "But it's- it's not Mr. Sebastian."

Smile's fists clenched. "Come out," he said lowly.

And to their collective confusion, a sniffle was the response. There was no time for this. Snake sent Wordsworth in. With a shriek, a figure rolled out, clutching its head in terror. Bard lit a match and knelt by the shaking thing.

"Young master, it's just a kid."

Snake caught sight of the child's face. It was a girl with dark hair, her eyes swollen and nose red from excessive crying. She was wrapped in a brown wool dress, little fingers coiled around a silk pouch.

"Now, now, we're not hurting you," the cook said awkwardly.

The girl glanced at the party and recoiled upon seeing Snake. The footman had expected this. "I'm sorry for scaring you, says Wordsworth." It was the least he could say.

Smile, for his part, had stooped to the child's level. He put on the sweetest smile Snake had ever seen. "Are you lost?" he asked gently. The girl fell into his arms immediately, earning a small "oof" from the earl.

"I- I was- s'posed to buy papa more matches," she blubbered, "an' they took the money an' I couldn't go home an' I'm lost an'- an' an'!"

Smile held her to his chest, lowering his head so that the brim covered his face. "What's your name, girl? We'll take you home."

"Vic- Victoria."

"Like the queen?"

She nodded. Finnian fell to his knees by Smile and seemed to be debating whether to rub the child's back or not. Smile lifted his hand, revealing Victoria's pouch.

"Victoria, I promise we'll get you home. And buy your father matches. But you need to tell me, where did you get this?"

She left his embrace to rub her eyes. Smile remained where he was. The girl trusted him easily. Smile had that effect on people, Snake admitted.

"A- after those boys too- took papa's money, I din't know wot t'do... I couldn' go 'ome. An' there was a sweets shop, I think- I think that's where I start crying."

"And then?"

"There was a man there. 'E was nice- 'e asked me why I was crying- he bought me chocolate." She wiped her nose.

"This man, what did he look like?"

"Real tall. 'Is hair was black an' 'e was all in black."

Smile tensed. "Then what?"

"He said 'e couldn't spend all 'is money-" she pointed at the pouch, "so e' said I could 'av- ave it."

"That's awfully kind!" Mey-Rin piped, but was shushed by the cook.

"I asked him to- to help me 'ome. 'E said 'a'right' so he held my 'and like this-" Victoria took Smile's hand in her own, "An' we were on our way- down 'ere... then 'e stopped and told me t'go. I didn' want to, but 'e said something bad was coming an' these men were 'ere an' he told me t'go."

She was shaking. Smile gripped her tighter. "I run away, but I think they 'urt him an' I got lost an'..." She was crying again, burying herself in Smile's chest. A sigh left him.

"What did the men look like?"

"I don' remember... there was a Father-"

Smile narrowed his eye as he patted Victoria's back. "Finny, carry her to the carriage. Tanaka can take her home... I know where he is now."

The earl passed the girl into Finnian's arms. His gaze swept over the servants. "There's a man with a petty grudge against us. And I'm not letting my butler die over something like this." He stood up. "Let's go!"

Seeing as Black was not there to do it, the staff took it upon themselves to reply: "Yes, my lord!"  _Says Goethe._

* * *

There hadn't been much time for the young master to explain in the carriage, but Bard understood the gist quickly enough. The earl had a run-in with a reverend named Plax in his last investigation. It had something to do with smuggled humans and the hoarding of ghosts (Bard couldn't resist a snort at that- as if). Either way, Plax was working with some bastard organization involved in organ harvesting and that ghost business. Thankfully, the young master had put a stop to it before things got out of hand. Of course, Sebastian had been involved and of course, the other party had vowed revenge.

When they arrived at the warehouse, Bard made a snap decision.  _It's what you would've done, Sebastian_. He locked the young master in the carriage. If whoever was in there could take down the Phantomhive butler, he didn't want the young master anywhere near them. So to the boy's infuriated protests, his servants left without him.

The earl was stuck with his steward and the girl named Victoria. Tanaka had no intention of letting him out.

"Mey-Rin, you and Snake take it from the outside. Finny's with me," he had commanded, the soldier in him ready to work.

Getting in was surprisingly easy. All Finnian had done was the rip the door off. Getting out, however, that needed a bit more work. Bard admitted that the inside was worth whistling at. It was decorated like some fancy dance floor, candlelight, red carpeting, and all. It wasn't what a man'd usually expect from a warehouse.

"Hope you don't mind that we showed ourselves in," he announced with a crooked grin as the group huddled up front turned toward them.

He counted eight. The man in the brown robe must have been Plax. His hair was the color of dust and there was a softness to his lips. In his hand was a dirtied whip. Bard hated him already. The others looked less distinguished, save for the one bastard in a showy suit.

"Mr. Sebastian!" Finnian all but yelped The gardener was stayed by Bard's hand. His grin fell.

Bard had once wondered what Sebastian would look like if his face ever got bashed up. The cook suspected it would be hilarious to see Sebastian bested so dumbly. That was before he actually saw it. Now he realized it wasn't funny in the least. In fact, it made his blood  _boil_.

The butler was slumped behind the group, looking far worse than Bard had ever seen him. The tailcoat was missing. His arms were tied together, bound to the nails of the wall, and raised over his head.  _Shit_. That was wire. And it looked spiked. The wires coiled around his hands and down to the elbows, cutting into the fabric of his sleeves and leaving bleeding wounds in their wake. Bard noticed that the same had happened to his legs, bound together from the knees down and stopping at the bare, raw feet.

It'd explain the crimson soaked sleeves and trousers. The man's shirt was near tatters, revealing blemishes and slices that still oozed with red, visible parts of skin blackened as if burnt. Sebastian lifted his head.

"Finnian?" he wheezed, cracking one eye open, his face caked with blood. The other looked swollen shut, as if someone had pounded that side of his face in with a club.

"Holy shit," Bard said in return.

"Would you look at that, butler?" Plax said, "the little lord sent someone for you after all."

Sebastian glared, eye almost glowing for a good moment. Plax took that as a cue to strike him in the chest, earning a growl from the other man as a long tear formed on his skin. To Bard's disturbance, he realized that the whip- if it could even be called that- had a blade attached to the length of its underside.

"If you don't want to be hurt too badly," Bard drawled, trying to keep his tone even instead of flying into a rage, "let him go. Right now."

The response wasn't ideal. A barrage of bullets came his way, Finnian hoisting up a crate just in time to save them both from becoming dead meat.

"I tried being nice!" he shouted.

Finnian put the ruined crate down, worried eyes never leaving Sebastian.

"So where is he? Where's Earl Phantomhive?" one of the men asked, a malicious sneer forming.

"Not here," Bard spat. He reached into his coat pocket. If this was the way they wanted to play, he'd let them play. Hurting Sebastian had been enough to guarantee their death warrants. Threatening the young master was enough to guarantee a one way ride to hell.

It was Sebastian's voice that interrupted them. "Baldroy, Finnian," he rasped, "you need to leave."

"Not without you!" Finnian said. "And not before we teach them a good lesson," Bard growled. They approached the reverend.

"You should listen to him," Plax remarked, "our kind of people can't really stand this type of... blade."

As soon as the last word left, he lashed out with the whip. Bard jumped back as Finnian prepared to catch it with his hands. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sebastian break from the wall with a cry of pain, the blood spraying as he lunged. His form crashed into Finnian and they both collapsed over Bard, all three tumbling to the floor as the whip's edge cracked against the butler's shoulder, taking more skin with it.

Plax retracted the weapon in shock as Bard sat up with a groan. "What the hell, Sebastian!?" The cook watched as Sebastian rolled aside, curling in on himself in shudders of pain, the blood seeping through his shoulder. Finnian cradled the man's head, calling his name in panic.

"I thought you didn't care for the human race," Plax said, disgusted.

"It- it's merely pro... fessional," Sebastian gasped in response.

Bard wanted to take a torch to the reverend's face. The worst of Sebastian's injuries were on his back, going beyond welts and into obvious slices, looking like someone had taken pleasure in cutting his back open with a sword.  _Professional, my ass!_

"Just stay put," Bard hissed to the butler.

"You n- need to leave," was the irrelevant response, "that blade... could have..."

"Killed us? It could've killed you too!"

All Sebastian did was shake his head. To say Bard was infuriated was an understatement. He thought back to the last time he had been this furious with the butler- when Sebastian had saved him from Blake and his cohorts at the expense of his own flesh. For someone who was so arrogant, Sebastian was infuriatingly humble when it came to his own life.

It had always stirred the cook's admiration, along with his frustration. Because that was who the Phantomhive butler was, always staking his life for someone else's. And for the second time in the earl's service, Bard wished that wasn't the case.

He pulled out the matchbox. Well, to hell with Sebastian's self-sacrificing aesthetics. It'd be the other way around this time. Plax struck at them again, Bard dodging as the whip nicked a few hairs off his head. He struck a match up. This time, they'd save their butler, all costs be damned.

* * *

Mey-Rin arrived in a shower of glass, having punctured her way in through the highest window. The footman was behind her, climbing up with the help of his pets. A fire had burst about the area as she made her landing, spectacles removed, and a bullet in each brain within the reach of her guns. She counted three that fell, not including the two that had been set on fire.

"About time!" Bard shouted from his place in the center, covered in soot and looking as if a good number of bullets had grazed his skin.

Finnian was rolling on the floor, a trickle of blood running down his temple and into his eye, grappling with another man for the gun in his hand. Mey-Rin aimed her pistol. To her frustration, the target was _good_. It must have been the reason why Finnian hadn't managed to crush him yet. The man on the floor was an expert and she'd know one when she saw one.

Weapons still trained, the maid turned her attention back to Bard, the breath catching in her throat when she saw the figure lying beside him. Sebastian. His blood was seeping into the carpet, the alarming amount of wounds all too visible from her position. It was a position she had never imagined him in. And that was saying enough.

"Plax, is it?" Bard called, stomping the flames at his feet. Mey-Rin estimated that the fire Bard had no doubt started would consume the warehouse soon enough. And the servants had no desire to still be inside when that happened.

"Why don'tcha come out like a man!?" the cook roared, "face me like you faced  _him_! How bout it!?"

Finnian's target wriggled free. The maid brought her aim to his head, just as her opponent twisted and grabbed the gardener from behind, pinning the tip of his gun under his chin.  _Damn it!_

"Come closer, lass, and we'll see how this boy does," the man growled.

"Blimey," she muttered.

Bard moved then, pouncing on the fellow's back, but not soon enough. In an instant, he was dropped by a kick to the shin, the gun still on Finny's head. As Bard scrambled back up, he gave a curse that made the gardener wince.

"He's a healthy one, alright," their opponent said, "wonder how much a boy like this would fetch on the market-"

"Shut your mouth... please," Mey-Rin snapped, raising the gun higher.

"Drop it," the other commanded. He looked at her as if there would be no more question.

It was a stalemate and one that their side was losing. She knew that look in his eyes- he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Finnian. She didn't like the direction this was going, but she had enough confidence to know that she could think of other ways. So the guns came down and Mey-Rin fell to her knees.

Finnian was trying to twist his head to glare at his captor. For her part, Mey-Rin found her eyes wandering toward Sebastian's prone form, half expecting, half hoping, him to stand up and save the day as he always did. To break free from those wires and shake the blood off. She could even hear the reprimand on his tongue.

He stayed down.

"So this is the lot Phantomhive sends," another voice said. The man named Plax stepped out of the flames, cradling a badly burned arm, a dagger in the other hand. "More efficient than I thought but... not nearly enough to best me."

She narrowed her eyes. Something seemed odd about the blade- the material wasn't any substance she recognized.

"I take it the earl isn't coming," he said.

Bard was about to move when Finnian's captor silenced him. "Take one step and the boy's head comes off."

"Tch! Fuck you too!"

"Maybe we should let one of you lot live," Plax mused, coming to stand before Sebastian. He nudged the butler's side with his foot. "So you can take this  _thing_ 's head-" The foot came down again, stomping hard enough to produce a resounding crack from the wounded man "-back to that brat."

Finnian was shuddering from some form of fury. Mey-Rin found herself clenching her fists so tightly the nails drew blood. If he dared touch Sebastian again. If he so much as lay one more finger on him...

" _Mey-Rin..._ "

It was a strained rasp. She met Sebastian's gaze, his eyes barely open, as Plax yanked him up by the hair. He crumpled as soon as Plax let go. The butler turned his battered face so that his eyes were once again on her.

"Mey-Rin, look at me," he whispered, "I need y- you to stay... calm... it's going to be all right."

Had the frenzy been so obvious on her face? She nodded, about to say something in return when Sebastian's head was abruptly smashed against the ground. Plax lifted him again, revealing a bloodied mess of a nose.

_Stay calm! Stay calm!_

Her heart jolted, eyes widening to saucers. Every instinct told her to run forward and rip Plax to shreds. No, no, Sebastian had wanted her to stay put so Finnian would live.  _Even if it meant he would die._

"You'll just pay for the price of two then!" Plax shouted, smashing Sebastian's head down again, "I wanted to do this with that sinful brat- we'll just settle this with you!"

By the fifth crack of his skull against the floor, Sebastian was choking on blood. He had been right- she needed to remain calm because Finnian's captor was so caught up in the display that he left himself open. The gardener had shut his eyes by then, unable to watch Sebastian beaten any longer.

Having lost his composure, Plax had taken to straddling the butler, frantically attacking him with the dagger, stabbing, slicing, catching any amount of flesh he could find. The blood came out in spurts, slathering the reverend's hands with red, splashing his robes. Mey-Rin tore her gaze away and moved.

In one movement, she scooped the discarded gun up and jumped, just as the other man fired. Her bullet met his neck first, interrupting his own blow just long enough for Finnian to avoid the bullet to his head. The man stumbled, still skillfully avoiding her bullets despite the wound. Then, with a startled cry, he fell to one knee, a snake sinking its teeth into his ankle. More of the reptiles latched onto his leg.

The maid pressed the trigger again, taking advantage of the turnabout. She kept firing, blasting until he was nothing but a smoking pile of blood.

Catching her breath, she turned to see Snake standing over Plax. The footman must have slipped in during the previous commotion.

"Give me one-  _one reason_ ," Snake snarled, "why we shouldn't kill you now, says Wilde."

Plax pulled Sebastian into a twisted embrace, bringing the bloodied dagger to his throat. "Because I said I'd have his head."

"What did you do to him?" the footman continued, baring his teeth, "what the hell did you do, says Bronte?"

"Nothing that the divine couldn't. Now stay back," was the retort.

"I swear, Plax," the cook said, finally seizing the chance to approach the man, "we're making you hurt. And I swear, it's going to bloody hurt."

Plax clung tighter to the butler, Sebastian's blood cascading over his arms like thin drapes. The reverend's damaged arm was beginning to show signs of fatigue, if his shaking was anything to go by.

"You can't come near me," he laughed, "you can tell Phantomhive to go to hell. I'm chopping this one's head right off!"

Mey-Rin stayed rooted to the spot, waiting for the others to make the first move. If she could help it, no one was getting their head chopped off and if anyone was coming out of this dead, she'd make sure it was Plax. To her surprise, it was Sebastian who made the next noise. A low, amused chuckle escaped his throat.

That set Plax over the edge. "Go back from whence you came!" he screeched, ready to slice the dagger through Sebastian's skin one final time.

"Snake, now!" Bard cried.

Snake threw himself at the reverend, the reptiles curling over the man's body, biting and tightening until they were a heap on the floor. Mey-Rin rushed to catch Sebastian as he fell with a clatter. She wrapped her arms around his battered frame, willing herself to brave whatever came next for his sake. For the first time in her employment, it was the maid who caught the butler.

Plax howled in pain as Finnian and Bard joined the footman. In his effort to catch his enemies with the blade, the dagger had been turned on himself. Mey-Rin watched in morbid fascination as the tip pierced the man's chest. The blood came out like a geyser, brief, fleeting, and all too predictable. Her colleagues rolled away from him.

Plax was twitching as the dagger sank into him, glassy gaze lost in the air.

"What was that about not coming near?" Bard taunted, bringing one foot up and stomping on the handle. The blood spread beneath his shoe as Plax finally succumbed to the poison of the snakes and his own fatal wound. The gardener then stooped and snapped the neck.

"Finny!" Bard was as jolted as the maid. Finnian flashed a sheepish look. "Just wanted to make sure."

"He's dead now, says Goethe." Snake came to the maid's side, quickly joined by the cook and gardener. "Very dead, says Oscar."

 _It's over now._  Mey-Rin would have sighed in relief if it wasn't for the weight in her arms. Sebastian was slumped against her, breath leaving in shallow gasps.

"Mr. Sebastian," she said, trying not to scream, "Mr. Sebastian?"

"It's well past dinner time... isn't it?" the butler mumbled, the not-smirk forming on his blood smeared lips. The weight suddenly increased, Sebastian's head lolling forward, having lost consciousness for good.

"W- what do we do?" Finnian asked beside her, blatantly panicking.

"Get him out of here first," Bard instructed, falling on his knees beside them and taking Sebastian from Mey-Rin's grip, however reluctant she was. "We'll have to cut the bonds with something else."

"The fire is eating the place up, says Dan."

"Then we better get out of here. Let it burn- sends a nice message." Bard stood, holding the butler with a tenderness Mey-Rin didn't know he was capable of. Finnian rushed to help the cook as the five of them exited the warehouse.

* * *

The young master's body had been screaming concern when the rest of the staff returned to the carriage. The servants had returned covered in soot and blood, the warehouse ablaze. Tanaka had expected no different. He had only met them with a welcoming smile as he unlocked the carriage doors at last.

But the old man admitted that he would rather not see Sebastian Michaelis in such a state again.

After they loaded him into the seat, strewn across the maid's lap and the gardener's, Bard took the reins of the carriage. The young master had listened to their account of what transpired with a passive face, but that quickly broke when the boy rushed to Sebastian's side, saying things that were irrational and obvious betrayals of his emotions ("Why didn't you cut him free!?" "You should have taken Plax alive." "Sebastian, Sebastian!" "Bard, hurry it up!" "Finny, stem the bleeding." "This is an order, Sebastian- you are not to die on me." "Bard, hurry up!").

The young master seemed to have forgotten the sleeping Victoria altogether. Tanaka took it upon himself to hold the girl, and the few times that she did awake, he made sure to avert her eyes from what became of the "tall nice man."

"Ciel found 'im?" she muttered.

"Yes." It was a bit jarring hearing this commoner address the young master so familiarly, but in his efforts to comfort the girl during their confinement in the carriage, the name had let slip. Tanaka found it rather endearing.

"Thas good. It's good that Ciel found 'im. Ciel won't be sad anymore."

"Indeed."

"Is he a'right?"

"He will be." And with that, the conversation ended, Victoria drifting off in Tanaka's arms.

In spite of the speed at which the carriage traveled, Master Ciel made at least five complaints about how slow it was. He looked a child again in his panic, face betraying a concern he would never admit under normal circumstances.

It was unsettling, Tanaka believed. Sebastian, the invincible, ever infallible servant reduced to the bleeding, broken mess before them, his senses closed to the world around. Never in his time with Sebastian had Tanaka seen him in anything that even resembled such a state. The only sign that he was alive was the labored movement of his chest.

But Tanaka was old enough to know that perfection was a purely subjective term. Michaelis had been the one to catch him when he first fell on the job. As the Phantomhive steward, he resolved to catch his fallen successor this time around.

Upon arriving at the manor, Tanaka instructed the gardener on carrying Sebastian up the stairs. Mey-Rin was tasked with cleaning up the blood that would stain the trail and seeing Victoria to the guest room, Snake was to tend the young master, and Bard was to join the steward in the butler's bedroom.

Once Sebastian had been laid on the bed and the gardener sent away, Tanaka carefully cut away the clothes, delicately maneuvering the fabric so it would not catch in the blood. Bard arrived soon enough, pliers in hand. As Tanaka worked away at the trousers, the cook busied himself with cutting the wires, grunting all the while.

The skin on Sebastian's limbs was torn and raw from the bonds, bleeding fresh and showing far too many hints of exposed muscle. His left hand in particular was terribly scraped, parts of white bone visible. The soles of his feet were no better, the skin practically rubbed off. Until the doctor arrived, Tanaka would have to take care of the butler himself.

_What kind of steward would I be if I could not even do this? Ho ho ho._

He dabbed at the wounds with warm water, starting with the front of the man's body before moving to the back. He would not lie- they were awful injuries and they cut deep. There was no clear skin to speak of, the few parts untouched with blood marred with third degree burns and black bruises instead. Stab wounds with varying degrees of severity covered the majority of Sebastian's front, traveling from the abdomen to the chest and even onto the shoulders. There were several broken ribs (and Tanaka knew he was not seeing things when the number decreased as time went on...) and an assortment of fractures about the limbs.

He noted with amusement that some of the wounds were already beginning to mend themselves. Well, Sebastian was one hell of a butler after all.

By the time Mey-Rin showed up with the actual physician, Tanaka had already medicated and bandaged the severest of the wounds, set the bones, and was about to see to the fracture in the butler's skull.

"You're late," he told the doctor with a bow.

* * *

"Hey, hey, keep it down," Finnian whispered to the bundle in his arms.

He bit his lip. It had been two days and five hours since they had located Sebastian. The gardener would know because he had been shamelessly reading the clock and badgering Snake to tell him the amount of time that passed. The butler's broken body came back to mind. Finnian quickly shook it out.

Now that Victoria had been returned home, with much praise for Earl Phantomhive and his staff, the manor was settling back into its normal routine. Almost.

Sebastian had been unconscious for the last two days. According to Mey-Rin, he had woken up once to give an order about the young master's breakfast from last Friday and he had woken up a second time muttering in Latin. The young master told them it was likely because he was delirious from pain and that no one should disturb Sebastian until he leaves the room.

 _I'm sorry, young master_. But Finnian was far too anxious to wait that long. He needed to make sure the butler was fine. And he needed to know now. A part of him was still berating himself for letting Sebastian come this close to death.

He was sure that if it had been the other way around, he would be perfectly fine. And there was Sebastian, lying hurt, an extra wound from his effort to save the gardener (again). The rescue attempt could have gone better and that sparked a bit of guilt.

Gulping, Finnian knocked on the door. There was no reply. Nervous, he fiddled with the knob. It wasn't locked. Hoping that Sebastian was somewhat awake, he twisted the knob and let himself in. He saw Tanaka sitting on the edge of the bed with a up of green tea, in the middle of some conversation with Sebastian.

The butler was sitting against a mound of pillows,  _awake_ , and save for the bandages, his face was clean, a marked contrast from the battered look Finnian had last seen him with.

"Finnian?" he asked, as if confused to why the gardener was there.

The gardener had hoped to make a dignified entrance. But instinct took hold of him in the end- he rushed toward the bed and flung himself at Sebastian.

"You're alive!" he cried, squeezing until Sebastian grunted in pain. Finnian let go immediately, ears flushed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"No matter," the butler sighed, "Just tell me what you want."

Finnian placed the bundle in Sebastian's lap, unwrapping the cloth. "Look, I brought your friend. I thought you could use some company to-"

There was nothing on the cloth. Confused, Finnian looked up, only to see Sebastian holding the kitten up with a look of pure love in his eyes. "Finny- you shouldn't have..."

"I knew you'd like it, Mr. Sebastian!" Finnian piped, "it's a get-well gift. I haven't told the young master. Don't worry."

He wasn't sure if Sebastian heard him because the butler was too busy fondling the feline. It was then that Finnian noticed he left the door ajar. He was about to leave the bed to close it when another figure burst into the room. The footman rushed up the bed, his favorite snakes coiled about his form.

"Black, you're awake, says Wordsworth!"

"That does seem to be the case-" Sebastian said, still holding the kitten, when his pupils suddenly dilated. Finnian's had as well. Because Snake had placed his arms around in the stiffest, strangest form of a hug the gardener had ever seen.

"I was so worried, says Emily." Snake's face, however, remained stoic despite the creeping blush on his cheeks.

Sebastian only blinked in surprise. "Well, your... concern is appreciated, Emily. Snake, you- you can let go now."

As soon as the footman let go, the kitten meowed in shock as Finnian was knocked forward into Sebastian's lap. "Mr-!" "Sebastian!" Mey-Rin had come up from behind, all but flying at the butler. Bard was beside her, leaning on the other edge of the bed, still too close to allot Finnian any space to move.

For his part, Sebastian was visibly twitching as Mey-Rin blubbered into his shoulder. His hands stayed on the cat as she embraced him, face turning redder with each second. "Oh, I'm so glad you're fine! You looked so terrible, Mr. Sebastian! I thought you'd died again-"

"So going to be up and about soon?" Bard laughed, clapping Sebastian far too enthusiastically on the back. The butler hunched with a stifled gasp of pain.

"Ah, damn it! Sorry, Sebastian!" the cook explained, his words mixing with the maid's.

"Ho ho ho." Tanaka's tea had spilled in the commotion.

"It's fine," Sebastian said, giving that exasperated sigh Finnian never thought he'd miss, "the concern is appreciated. And I must apologize for troubling you all over the past few days. It's unfitting of a Phantomhive butler."

"It's only natural for Phantomhive servants to be able to do this, says Wilde!" Snake said, snapping a salute.

"That's right," Bard added, "and 'sides, is that really all you're worried about, Sebastian? Look at you!"

"I'm... manageable," the butler said, apparently deciding that saying anything else would be a lie, "which brings me to another point. I do believe you've saved my life, Baldroy, Finnian, Mey-Rin, Snake, Tanaka. You have my gratitude; and job well done."

The kitten still in his lap, Sebastian offered them his signature smile. And the clamor started anew when Finnian joined Mey-Rin in the hug, to Sebastian's ignored protests, their words drowned out by Snake's various voices and Bard's loud attempts to strike conversation.

"Enough with the racket!"

Finnian's brows rose. That was- the young master appeared from underneath the blankets, his hair sticking in all directions, still in his nightclothes, and a pink mark on his face, no doubt from where one of the servants had pressed in their efforts to touch Sebastian.

"Young master," Mey-Rin gasped, "you were here the whole time."

The boy's face flushed. "N- no. I was just- I was. I had business to discuss. Sebastian, tell them!"

"Your concern's so endearing, says Emily."

"Indeed it was," the butler agreed, holding back a chuckle at the earl's expense.

"Don't worry, young master, we won't tell anyone," Finnian said.

"Everyone in the manor's already here! Oh, never mind it. Just scoot and give me room." As the gardener shifted, the young master took his place by Sebastian, pulling the blanket toward himself and glaring at the cat.

"Just this once, Sebastian, I won't order you to get rid of it," he muttered.

"If I knew you would say that, I would have endeavored to injure myself more in the past."

"Be quiet, Sebastian."

Finnian couldn't help himself. He fell in a fit of laughter, the young master ordering him to stop. Bard joined in, Mey-Rin still clinging to Sebastian, and Snake deciding to join the others on the bed. Even Tanaka seemed to have shifted closer. The young master sneezed. Wilde slithered against Mey-Rin. Her yelp surprised Bard, who then fell over Tanaka's cup. The tea spilled. The earl yelled. The butler sighed.

It was then that Finnian knew the manor was back to its usual routine.

* * *

_Eight-year-old Victoria Smith wandered the grand hall, staring in awe at Ciel's home. He must have been a prince, straight out of a fairy tale. He said that tomorrow, he would take her home, after breakfast. Not sure where to find Ciel, she ended up wandering the corridors at night. It was beautiful, but... scary._

_She heard a muttering behind the door at the very end. Victoria rushed toward it, hoping Ciel was inside. She stopped outside and listened in._

_"You lost the chocolate, didn't you, Sebastian?"_

_"My apologies... young master."_

_"No use badgering about that. Tell me how Plax and his brutes got a hold of you... Sebastian, don't faint on me."_

_"Ah, I apologize, my lord... they caught me by surprise. It seems that a reaper (reaper?), yes reaper, left a death scythe lying in this realm. Plax recognized it and used it in a variety of his tools."_

_"So the whip, that dagger they were talking about, and what not- it was all fashioned from a discarded scythe?"_

_"From what I could gather, yes."_

_"Well, it would explain your sorry state. I haven't seen you this worn since-"_

_"Miss Victoria?" a voice said from behind her._

_With a jump, the girl turned, only to see the old steward holding a candelabra._

_"I was looking for Ciel," she told him._

_"I'm sure Master Ciel will talk to you in the morning. Come, miss Victoria. Let me take you to your room."_

_"But Ciel's in there."_

_"Now now, he wants to spend time with mister Sebastian. He'll spend time with you in the morning."_

_Timidly, Victoria took the smiling steward's hand. They walked away from the room, though she still had no idea what the conversation had been about. It didn't matter. She would get to go home in the morning and Ciel had bought her new matches. It was just too bad no one had let her see the nice man one last time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, I hope everyone was in character and that you enjoyed this fic as a whole. As always, feel free to leave comments/kudos.
> 
> In case anyone's wondering why Sebastian offered to take Victoria home, it was because it wasn't 5:30 yet and he had nothing better to do. Ciel never got his chocolates, which is why he hopes Plax went to hell. And most of the staff thinks Sebastian's just this weird yet awesome human, so I was trying to have that come through in their povs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and feel free to give kudos/comments! Would you like to see it go on, was everyone reasonably in character, etc. Let me know!


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